#but I’ve had this scene in my head for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withlovemark · 1 day ago

Text

“drivers license”

pairing: jaehyun x reader | genre: angst | words: 11k+

now listening to -> i got my drivers license last week just like we always talked about.

synopsis -> a whirlwind romance with jung jaehyun.

warnings -> minor car crash, cheating, a break-up, might leave behind emotional damage, jaehyun is a coward, +18, crude language, mention of: frat parties, alcohol, make outs, smut! not descriptive but contains: dry humping, jaehyun cumming in his pants, implied oral (f), implied sex.

an -> i cannot believe the day has come where i finally finished this. it’s so embarrassing to say but this took me five years (2021-2025) and it’s not even the proudest thing i’ve written. every time i opened the google doc for this it was like my brain would forget every word in the dictionary. writers block hitting every god damn time. the reason? this entire series started with a member that is no longer part of nct and the issue around him, at the time, hurt me a lot and took me a while to move on from. but hey! time heals. this is here. it’s done! and i love writing for nct again! have fun reading! with love, c.

͙͘͡★

“hey uhh, it’s me, umm by me i mean its y/n by the way, i-well,” you let out a nervous chuckle, “i know this is weird, like really weird. especially since we’re y’know…broken up and all but uhm i just wanted to tell you that i uh…” your voice wavers, you cough once, clear your throat, then barrel forward, rushing through the words as if that’ll make it hurt less, “...finally got my driver’s license,” you finished clumsily.

silence fills the space for a beat too long.

‘this is stupid. what the hell am i doing,’ you think to yourself, realization slowly creeping in.

“-that’s pretty much it, i just,” you sigh, “wanted to tell you...you probably don’t care but yeah um i hope you’re doing well—”

beep.

the voicemail machine rings in your ear, letting you know that you’ve exceeded the amount of time given. you stare at your phone like it personally betrayed you. then it hits you. full force. your eyes widen, jaw dropping.

‘no, no, NO, no fucking way you just called your ex…you absolute dumbass,’ the inner voice in your head ridicules.

“UGHH!” you swore in the comfort of your car, head slamming against the steering wheel as you punched the air around you. if anyone were to see this scene unfold, they would think you were absolutely, batshit crazy.

god, you wished you were. it would be easier to explain.

but no, this was just a side effect of the broken-hearted.

after a while of just wallowing in your pity, you finally accept the fact that you were pathetic. throwing your phone into your bag, you chose the radio over the aux cord, not wanting to see the little devil machine that caused you your entire pride.

“hi, this is olivia rodrigo and you are now listening to my debut single, drivers license.”

‘olivia who?’ you start driving, wondering who the new artist was that was playing in the station you randomly tuned into.

the song starts and you barely register the lyrics until they start pulling on you. you can't help but feel that she had access to your inner thoughts and wrote this song using your heart and soul and diary.

you sit there, frozen behind the wheel, eyes on the road but barely seeing it. your grip on the steering wheel tightens. each lyric landing like a punch to the gut. images flashing behind your eyes of the one and only — jung jaehyun.

the man of the hour.

your first thought in the morning and the one that haunts you at night. you tried to forget. you tried to let go. but how could you, when he gave you so much to hold on to?

the first meeting.

“ouch!” you yelped, instinctively clutching the top of your head where a basketball had just collided…hard.

you turn around, ready to blow up on the person that obviously sucked at basketball.

in what world was the net your head???

but then your eyes locked with his and just like that, every insult evaporated from your mouth — the school’s number one golden boy. star player. campus crush. walking daydream.

and currently jogging towards you, “sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, ears burning red as he retrieves the basketball that landed a few inches away from you.

you blinked once, twice, “uhh, its um… its okay,” you managed to stammer, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your pride that had scattered alongside the ball.

you never really cared for social norms or popularity or any of that status quo bullshit. social ladders were just invisible ropes to nowhere in your mind. but you still knew that jaehyun was way up there, all shining spotlight and untouchable perfection, while you… weren’t even on the pyramid.

and yet, here he was. looking at you.

‘why is he still looking at me?’

before you could think further, jaehyun stepped a little closer, his brows pulling together in concern. and then, as if time itself slowed down, he reached out and cupped the side of your head, your brain short-circuiting.

‘no way. no way jung jaehyun is touching my face right now. this isn’t real. i’m dreaming. i’ve fallen unconscious from the ball and i am hallucinating.’

you felt the weight of a dozen eyes on you, murmurs, a couple of gasps. even his teammates had paused to see what their mvp was doing hovering over some nobody with the gentleness of a disney prince.

your panic response kicked in – you slapped his hand away, wanting to get rid of the attention that was suddenly on you though this action did the exact opposite, everyone now curious as to who you are.

“wh-what are you doing?” you demanded, voice way too high-pitched to be threatening. every curious eye zooming in on you like vultures to a fresh kill. everyone thinking the same thing: who were you to slap the golden boy’s hand?

jaehyun blinked at your reaction, then rubbed the back of his neck, completely unbothered by your swat, “i was just checking to see if you were hurt,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world to cradle strangers’ heads in public.

“oh uh it's fine!, it doesn’t hurt at all!! no bumps here,” you chirped, hands going straight to your head, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips as he eyes you suspiciously, not quite convinced with your statement.

“see!” you continue, pointing at the top of your head as you bow, earning a laugh from the boy in front of you. you can’t help but look back at him, his deep laughter ringing in your ears. you notice the way his dimples came out to play.

“okay, if you say so,” jaehyun said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “but a little tip…”

“huh?” you were still trying to recover from the dimple attack.

“you probably shouldn’t stand right behind a basketball hoop. especially when people are playing,” he teased, his grin widening like he knew exactly what he was doing to your poor nervous system.

your face burned, “right,” you muttered, wishing the earth would open and swallow you whole.

then he winked. actually winked. before he turned around, casually spinning the ball in his hand as he jogged back to his teammates while you watched him go, still frozen in place, still trying to compute what the hell just happened.

the first car ride.

the rain poured mercilessly, cold needles stabbing through your clothes as you power-walked down the sidewalk, your backpack clumsily perched atop your head in a hopeless attempt to shield yourself.

just your luck. the one day you forgot your umbrella was the day mother nature decided to go full on melodrama.

through the wall of rain, a car pulled up beside you, the hum of the engine barely audible over the storm. then a voice called out, “hey! do you need a ride!?”

you try to peek at the person inside, droplets of rain making your eyes flicker yet you see him in all his glory. you stared for a second too long, internally questioning every life decision that led to this exact moment.

‘now why in the world is he offering me a ride’

you hesitated. the rain was unrelenting, soaking through your hoodie and numbing your fingers, but getting into a car with someone you barely knew, even if he was the school’s walking dream, was a gamble.

sure, he might be the most popular guy in school but the only thing you knew about him was his name and his basketball jersey number, which was 14 by the way.

“you’re not going to kidnap me and then murder me to sell my organs on the black market, right!?” you ask, questioning his motives.

“huh??” the boy yells back.

‘i said!!...” you state your previous statement for the second time, battling with the sound of the loud rain hitting the pavement.

jaehyun blinked. and then…he laughed. a real, full laugh that melted a little of your anxiety.

“well, that’s for you to decide!” he shot back, boyish and harmless, dimples threatening to make you forget all your common sense.

it seems as if the rain won't stop any time soon. so you weigh out your options. possibly die in a handsome stranger's car or walk home and also possibly die in the cold rain? which one sounds like a more peaceful way to go?

fuck it.

you yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat, shivering as the heater hit your skin like a hug from the sun. the door shut, sealing you in with warmth and the faint smell of clean laundry and something citrusy. you knew right then that you made the correct choice.

jaehyun quickly grabs his backpack from the backseat, taking out a grey hoodie. “here, you should change before you get sick,” he offers.

you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, “you know if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked,” you teased, your playful nature coming out to mask the awkwardness that is you sitting on the passenger's seat of the school’s pride.

he let out a mock grunt, rolling his eyes with a smile as he turned to look out the rain-covered window, “shut up.”

“don’t peek, okay!” you chuckled, noticing the way his ears had turned to a slight shade of pink.

briskly changing into the hoodie that was way too big for you, you turn to the boy at the driver’s seat who’s still keeping himself busy, probably betting which raindrop racing to roll down his car window would win.

“i’m done,” you finally said after admiring him. he turns to you, giving you a soft smile, “the hoodie suits you.”

“thanks for letting me borrow it,” you grinned, matching his reflection.

“i’m jaehyun by the way,” he introduced himself, reaching out his hand.

“i know,” you say casually, realizing how weird it sounded as soon as the words left your lips, “i-i mean! everyone knows the basketball teams mvp!,” you reason as jaehyun nods, completely understanding what you meant.

“uh, im y/n,” you finally say, completing the handshake.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” jaehyun says as he looks at you quizzically.

“what? do i have something on my face??” you gasp, feeling your face for any unwanted substance, your action reminding jaehyun of the person he accidentally threw a basketball at a couple weeks ago.

he smiles after putting two in two together, realizing that you were that same person.

it was a fond memory for him, usually people would worship the ground he walked on but you…you slapped him away. a different reaction from the ones he was used to. ever since that day he hoped to run into you again.

“why are you smiling like that? oh god, is this the part where you admit to killing me??” you gushed, earning a laugh from him.

“are you sure that ball didn’t damage the inside of your brain?” he joked as you sat there registering his words.

“wait..you remember that?” you ask, genuinely confused as to why he would even remember you with all the people that surround him day by day.

“it’s not everyday i hit someone with my ball,” he smirks and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole because that memory is definitely in your top 10 most embarrassing moments and he remembers it.

“to answer your question, no... the ball did not hurt me, i just watch a lot of true crime,” you admit. jaehyun chuckles and you can’t help but join, feeling more at ease with being in his presence.

“and you think i’m really a killer?,” he quips a brow, an amused expression on his features.

‘yeah, your looks are killer’

“with a face like this?” he joked, striking a ridiculous pose, chin tilted up dramatically.

‘exactly’

you let out a giggle, “first of all, don’t ever make that face again, second, it’s always the ones you don’t expect,” you say, talking like a detective. he burst into laughter again, his eyes crinkling, and you realized then and there…you really liked the sound of his laugh. it was easy. real. addicting.

“so y/n… where do i drop you off?” jaehyun shoots you a smile.

“why? so you can know where i live and kill me in the comfort of my own home?” you continue joking around with him.

“you’re unbelievable.” he chuckles as you start directing the way to your apartment.

and as he drove through the rain, one hand on the wheel and the other occasionally tapping the rhythm of the music playing faintly in the background, you looked out the window, only to catch your reflection in the glass, wearing his hoodie, laughing in his car.

you didn’t know it then, but this was the moment everything quietly began.

the proposal.

“remind me again why you’re in college and still don’t have your driver’s license?” the boy asks you.

you looked up from your coffee, eyes narrowing at jaehyun as he sat across from you, chin propped up on one hand, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. the two of you are seated in the campus’ cafe which has quickly become your usual meet up spot. it was halfway between the music room and the laboratories – a perfect place for a medical major and a music major to meet up.

“i don’t need it,” you shrugged, casually stirring your drink with the little wooden stick they gave you, “everything’s within walking distance anyway. and if it’s not, the bus exists.”

he leaned back in his chair, eyebrows lifting in a slow, dramatic arc, “you do realize that you’d save so much more time and money if you had a car, right?”

you sighed, already seeing where this was going. this wasn’t the first time jaehyun had tried to convince you to get behind the wheel, “yeah, but I don’t need it right now,” you shrug.

he shook his head with an exasperated little grin, then set his drink down with a thud and pointed at you, “okay, okay, just imagine this.”

here it comes.

“you finally graduate, top of your class, of course, and you’ve landed the job of your dreams. everyone’s calling you doctor y/n. life is good,” he leaned forward, voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper, “and yet…you still don’t have your own car? that’s kind of lame.”

you let out a dramatic gasp, grabbing your paper straw wrapper and tossing it at him, “first of all, rude. second of all, i will obviously have my license by then!”

“exactly!” he claps, “soooo, wouldn’t it be better if you start practicing now,” he says smirking, knowing that he won this debate.

you crossed your arms, pretending to scowl, “okay, so what do you want me to do about it?”

jaehyun leaned back, acting as though he were pondering the mysteries of the universe before saying, with complete nonchalance, “let me teach you.”

your brow rose immediately, suspicious, “and what do you want in return?”

he sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable, then he smiled, “nothing, i just want more time with you,”

“with me??” you ask in disbelief.

the boy shrugs his shoulders, “yeah, i like hanging out with you.”

your heart thudded, your breath caught in your throat before you quickly masked it with a sip of your drink.

after a few seconds of silence, which jaehyun could argue felt like forever, you finally agreed, “so, what’s the first lesson?”

he lit up, clearly proud of himself, “hmm, how about you just let me drop you off everyday?”

well, now that just did not make sense to you.

you tilted your head, trying to make sense of the logic or lack thereof, “how does that help me learn? that’s literally just you driving me around.”

“visual learning first before i let you behind the wheel,” he responds, “my car is still my baby you know,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and you laugh at the words that slipped by his lips.

and maybe it was stupid. maybe letting jaehyun drive you everywhere was unnecessary. but the way he looked at you, like this tiny, mundane thing mattered just because you mattered, was more than enough for you to agree.

the first lesson.

“brake y/n, step on the brake. brake! brake!! brake!!!,” jaehyun chants like it was a mantra, sending you into panic mode as your brain suddenly couldn’t differentiate which pedal is which.

you shut your eyes instinctively, ready to come into collision with the brick wall that just kept coming closer and closer until the car came to a sudden stop.

for a moment, all you could hear was the hum of the engine and the wild pounding of your heart. your body leaned forward slightly, but something kept your head from slamming into the steering wheel. blinking rapidly, you looked up and saw jaehyun’s arm. his hand had shot out across your seat, pressed firmly against your forehead. his jaw was tight, his breath shallow, but his grip on you had been steady, sure.

“you okay?” he asked after a beat, his voice low and strained.

you took a second to gather yourself before nodding slowly. “yeah, yeah, i think i’m alive.”

jaehyun exhaled and finally pulled his arm back.

“how’d you stop the car, are you like superman or something?” you finally say, breaking the tension in the air.

jaehyun laughs, finally pulling his hand back as he gets cozy in his seat once again, “there’s something called a handbrake, y/n,” he grinned, pointing at the gadget sitting in between the two of you as you let out a silent, “oh.”

the moment dissolved into quiet as you slumped against the seat, defeated, “i told you that driving would be a bad idea!”

jaehyun rolled his eyes but his brows pulled together slightly, and you knew he wasn’t just brushing it off, “y/n… you need to learn how to drive. it’s a basic life skill.”

for the past month, jaehyun has been teaching you how to drive and this past month the only thing you truly learned was that jaehyun was an old soul. apart from basketball, he loved collecting vintage things, loved photography, music, wine, cooking, troy bolton, and you couldn’t help but want to learn more.

“ughhh yeah, yeah i know, you say that all the time,” you replied, glancing at him, “please don’t be mad.”

his expression softened instantly as he turned toward you, “i’m not mad,” he said, ruffling your hair with his usual affection, “just mildly terrified.”

you giggled as he reached for his seatbelt and unbuckled with a sigh. that was your cue. you could finally breathe again as you both clambered out and swapped seats.

the familiar thump of the driver’s side door shutting felt like a reset button, and suddenly the energy between you felt light again, comfortable. you let yourself get cozy in the passenger seat, your favorite seat, as you throw jaehyun your best mischievous grin.

he didn’t look at you. just calmly reached for the gear, put the car in reverse, and smoothly began backing up. one hand rested on the back of your seat, his body turning effortlessly as he scanned the rearview, jawline sharp in profile, lashes thick against the sunlit windshield, his long fingers flexed against the headrest near your shoulder.

you stared unabashedly, “that was so hot. do it again,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

jaehyun paused, casting you a sideways glare, “shut up, i’m driving” he muttered, but the corners of his lips betrayed him, the start of a smile curling upward.

you turned toward the window, hiding the smile blooming on your face. outside, the world passed in soft blurs of sunlight and trees, but inside the car, everything felt still, like something fragile and new had quietly taken root between you.

the first time.

“why don’t you ever deny it?”

your voice is soft, almost lost beneath the hum of the night and the low music playing from jaehyun’s car speakers. the two of you sit in the back of his car, the trunk popped open to reveal the night sky. a shared blanket pools around your waists, open snack bags scattered between your legs, the half-empty bottles of beer glinting faintly under the stars.

“deny what?” jaehyun asks, turning towards you, a bag of chips in hand.

you glance away, suddenly shy, “the other day… when johnny told you to bring your girlfriend to the party, and he meant me, you didn’t correct him.”

the scene has been bothering you for quite some time now. sure, you and jaehyun have been spending a lot of time together and you could understand how from an outside perspective, people could think you were dating.

but you weren’t, you were simply just friends.

jaehyun takes a swig of his alcoholic beverage, hesitating to respond, “d-do you not want to be?”

you blink, “wait, what?”

jaehyun chuckles, relieved that he could blame the alcohol for the blush that was forming on his face. he rests his head against the car’s frame, “you know, for someone who can memorize entire anatomy textbooks, you can be really clueless sometimes.”

you scowl at him, ready to shoot back something sarcastic, until he looks at you.

“i like you, y/n.”

the words land heavy and warm in the middle of your chest.

“y-you like me?” you echo, unsure whether to believe it or hold it at arm’s length.

“yeah,” he smiles, but there’s something vulnerable in it, “i like you.”

there’s a beat of silence, like the universe is holding its breath.

“…since when?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“since the day i first met you,” he confesses, turning away and looking up at the stars.

you turn to him, noticing the grin that was displayed on his face and the blush painting his ears and you couldn’t help yourself, it was like your body had a mind of its own and you were no longer in control.

you feel your hands instinctively rise to his face, gently guiding his head to face you. jaehyun watches your every move, almost mesmerized, eyes flickering down to your lips.

your fingers ghost across his cheek, then brush against his lips and that was all the permission he needed.

he leans in slowly, hand cupping your cheek with such care it makes your chest ache. his lips meet yours, soft, cautious, like he’s been waiting forever. you respond instantly, melting into him, letting the kiss deepen, pulling you both under.

the more you kissed him, the more addictive he got.

he tastes like beer and vanilla chapstick. one kiss turns to two. two turns to something needier, hands exploring, hearts thudding. you wanted more. your hands found themselves slightly pulling at the boy's hair as jaehyun changed the position, throwing you over him so that you could straddle him, knees tucked beside his thighs.

forgetting that you guys were still in the comfort of his car, your head makes contact with the roof, breaking off the kiss, “ow,” you whined, hand going straight to your head, making you and jaehyun burst into laughter, breathless and giddy.

“i really gotta stop accidentally injuring you,” he grins, rubbing the spot on your head with sympathy, before bringing his lips up to soothe the pain with kisses.

“i think your car’s trying to keep us in check,” you smile, soft giggles slipping from your lips.

“or it’s warning me before I lose control,” he says, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw.

you meet his gaze, your voice dropping, “what if i want you to lose control?”

you were challenging him and he’s definitely up for it. jaehyun swallows hard, eyes darkening with something deeper than mischief. he doesn’t say a word, just closes the trunk with one smooth motion and takes your hand, guiding you into the backseat with quiet urgency.

this time you straddle him with ease, his lips immediately on yours as his hand wanders all throughout your body. he licks your bottom lip and you give in, parting your lips open to meet his tongue, feeling him smile through the kiss.

“you’re dangerous,” he murmurs, “you really have no idea what you do to me.”

you breathe against his neck, one hand splaying across his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart, “i think i do.”

rough hands guide your body down until you’re fully sat upon his hard cock, emphasizing the way he needs you. you rock into him once and he cant help but release a groan of pleasure, “my cock is throbbing for you, baby,” the pet name sends your mind into a haze, rocking into him again and again until you’ve set a pace that mixed your moans with his.

“baby, im gonna cum in my pants,” he grunts, turning you on even more.

“you like me that much, huh?,” you tease, not losing your rhythm, and all he could do was grunt in reply as he lost control, releasing evidence on his sweatpants.

you giggle at the effect you had on him, snapping him out of his daze, “what’s so funny, pretty girl?”

“i haven't even touched you yet,” you tease.

“can you blame me?, i've been thinking about this ever since you got undressed in my car,” he confesses and your eyes almost bulge out of the sockets.

“yeah? what else did you think about?,” you taunt him.

“i’ll show you,” he says before gently placing you down his car seat, as he helps you out of your jeans.

the space is small. the car is cramped. but nothing was going to stop him from fitting his large frame in between your legs.

he places a kiss above your panties. your hips immediately react to his actions. he smirks, “you like me this much, huh?” he teases you with your own words.

“jaehyun, please do something,” you whine.

jaehyun pushes your panties to the side, finally giving you what you both wanted.

the first i love you.

“come on, just trust me,” jaehyun whispers in your ear, the warmth of his breath grazing your skin and sending butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. his voice is low, teasing, calm in a way that only makes you more curious. and more flustered.

“jae, how long are we going to have to drive for?” you whine again, blindfolded with a handkerchief that still smells like his cologne.

“we’re almost there,” he replies, chuckling at your lack of patience.

“ugh finee,” you sigh, slouching in your chair until the car comes to a stop.

“are we he—?,” before you can finish, his lips press against yours in a kiss that completely pushed out all of your thoughts. you freeze in place, lips softening as you instinctively lean into it, feeling the smile tugging at his mouth before he pulls away.

“that’s how much you wanted me to shut up huh?” you smirk.

“nah,” jaehyun chuckles, shifting gears with a casual ease. you can hear the grin in his voice.

“then what was that for?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing and jaehyun can’t help but chuckle at your expression.

“i just wanted to kiss my girlfriend at a red light, is that a crime?” he teases.

you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face, “nope,” you murmur, “feel free to do it again, whenever.”

this past week of being jaehyun’s official girlfriend has been a dream. you’re not sure how long honeymoon avenue lasts but you did know that you wanted to keep driving down this road as long as jaehyun’s the one sitting in the driver's seat.

the car slows to a stop, and you perk up, “are we he—?”

your question gets cut off by another kiss, this one slower, more lingering, like he just wanted one more moment of you before the surprise.

“you really like interrupting me today,” you whisper, dazed.

“only when I can’t help myself.”

moments later, he’s helping you out of the car, one hand around your back, the other gently clasping yours. you feel the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, the subtle shift in wind telling you that you’re somewhere open, peaceful.

and then he let’s go

“jaehyun?” you ask, the loss of contact making you nervous.

“im here,” he whispers right by your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“are you ready?” he asks. you nod before he carefully unties the handkerchief, finally allowing you to take in the beautiful view right in front of you.

“oh my god,” you awe in admiration, “did you set this all up yourself?”

in front of you lays a yellow checkered picnic blanket, filled with a bunch of your favorite snacks, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and his guitar seated perfectly on the side. the sky is blue, the birds are chirping, and jaehyun is standing right next to you. you could've sworn you were transported into a fairytale book.

jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, cheeks already pink, “yeah, i know how busy you are and i just wanted you to take a moment to unwind,” he admits, as you turn around facing him, noticing his ears turning that shade of red that you grew to love.

love.

it’s a strong word. but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s the reason for the butterflies in your stomach. your heart swells so fast it feels like it might burst. you reach for his hand and twine your fingers through his, “you’re unreal, you know that?”

you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, grateful kiss. he responds just as gently, thumb grazing your cheek like he’s memorizing how you feel in his arms.

the world around you seems to fade. no ticking clocks, no deadlines, no chaos. just you, him, and the way time stands still when your lips meet.

when you finally break apart, he smiles at you like he’s the luckiest boy alive, “come on, sit. i’ve got one more surprise.”

“oh god. what could top this?,” you smile.

he settles onto the blanket, pulls his guitar into his lap, and glances at you nervously, “i uh… wrote you a song.”

your eyes widen, “you what?”

“i wrote you a song,” he says more confidently this time, grabbing his guitar. you can literally feel your heart thumping out of your chest like they do in those cartoon shows and you wonder if he can hear how loudly it’s beating.

and then he sings.

the words are sweet. honest. every line is a little window into his heart, filled with shy glances, secret hopes, and the quiet moments he never had the courage to tell you about until now.

as soon as he plucked the last chord, there were only three words that could slip past your lips.

“i love you.”

it slips out before you can second-guess it. and for a split second, your heart stops. maybe it’s too soon. maybe you’ve ruined something.

but then jaehyun’s entire face lights up, eyes crinkling, dimple forming, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“i love you too,” he says, like he’s been holding it in for far too long.

you don’t even let him finish before you’re leaning in, pulling him into a kiss that says everything your words can’t.

seven months in heaven.

heaven. that’s what it felt like to be consumed by jung jaehyun. the kind of love that didn’t creep in slowly but crashed over you like a wave, sudden, wild and all-consuming.

month one. you were like two peas in a pod, stuck together at the hip. everywhere you went, he was there. almost like gravity had shifted and you couldn’t help but orbit each other. the whole campus watched the two of you. some in envy, some in awe. but none of it mattered because in your world, it was just you and him.

you clung to him like a koala, constantly reaching for him — his hand, his hoodie, his attention. and he absolutely adored every second of it. adored you.

he picked you up after every class, waiting at the door like he belonged there. he drove you home with one hand on the wheel, the other in yours. played your favorite songs, and teased you when you tried to sing along off-key.

most nights, he stayed over. his skin wrapped around yours like a second layer of warmth. and when he didn’t, you’d fall asleep in one of his shirts, phone resting on your chest after hours of late-night calls. his voice the last thing you heard before drifting off.

month two. you stopped saying me and started saying we.

there was a toothbrush for him, right next to yours, in your apartment. and a matching one in his dorm. you had a growing collection of his hoodies in your closet. he pretended not to notice but his smile gave him away every time you wore one.

you know all of his schedules and he memorized yours without trying. you’ve cancelled plans just to stay in, legs tangled on the couch, sharing dreams like secrets under warm blankets and future plans whispered between kisses.

it started to feel like a forever kind of thing.

month three. you were still coasting down honeymoon avenue, but now it came with the deeper things.

late night vulnerability, childhood stories, the fears he never told anyone else, the ones you didn’t even know you could speak aloud.

you shared each other’s pressure. shared each other’s troubles. you were there when things got too much, becoming his personal safe haven and you, his.

when the world was too loud, too cruel, too overwhelming – you had each other. that was all you both needed.

month four. i love you wasn’t just something you said. it lived in your actions. it was jaehyun massaging your hands after a long day. you memorizing his coffee order down to the way he liked the foam. the way he always buckled your seatbelt for you. the way you always brought him his favorite coffee order.

his car playlists was filled with songs you love. there are pieces of you in the compartment box, a lipgloss, a scrunchie, a tiny pouch filled with your basic essentials.

your fridge was filled with his favorite snacks, his favorite beer. love letters on sticky notes he would left behind tuck in between the magnets.

and on quiet nights, you fell asleep on his lap as he traced your face with his fingertips like he was trying to memorize you forever. he looked at you like you were a poem he never wanted to stop reading.

and one night he whispered in your ear, “it’s you and me forever, baby.”

and you believed him.

month five. things got a little quieter. not in a bad way. just…settled.

less adrenaline and more comfort. routine settled in but you liked it.you liked knowing he’d be there. you liked how he could tell when you were anxious just by your breathing.

he’d squeeze your thigh gently under the table during group dinners just to comfort you.

you’d look at him and feel like you were home. he was home.

month six. fights began, but they were soft.

little misunderstandings. jealousy here and there. moments where your insecurities brushed up against his.

but every argument ended the same way. his forehead against yours, apologies and i love you’s slipping out between sighs. he’d kiss your temple like he was sealing a wound and you’d forgive him. of course you would.

and besides, his red flags weren’t red. they were beige. soft, muted, easy to overlook in the warmth of everything else.

month seven. you got busy. he got anxious. texts were left on read a little longer. calls ended faster.

but when you were together, it still felt like heaven. his touch still sets you alight. your laugh still made him smile like it was the first time he’d heard it.

he’d still looked at you like you were everything.

and that was enough. wasn’t it?

the first real crack.

“babe, i think we’re lost,” you say, your voice gentle but laced with nervous laughter, trying to keep the mood light.

your eyes flick toward jaehyun, who’s gripping the steering wheel tighter than before, taking yet another left at a stop sign that looks hauntingly familiar.

the sun was already beginning to set, washing the sky with orange and purple hues, but instead of basking in its beauty, the two of you were trapped in an unfamiliar neighborhood, google maps stubbornly rerouting with every turn.

you peek at him from the passenger seat, watching the way his jaw tightens.

“would it kill you to give the right directions for once?” he mutters, not even looking at you.

the sentence lands heavier than it should. it isn’t just about directions. you know that. and maybe he does too.

your smile fades as you blink at him. “sorry…i thought i was.”

he exhales through his nose, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “you always think you’re right, even when you’re not.”

and there it is. not a yell. not a fight. but something colder. detached. dismissive.

it’s the way he says always like it’s not just this moment but a flaw in your character. something he’s been cataloging along the way.

it’s silent. the kind of silence that doesn’t feel peaceful. the kind that buzzes in your ears and makes your chest feel too tight. you look out the window, trying to calm your breathing, trying not to let the sting behind your eyes turn into tears.

you’ve had fights, sure. arguments over little things, forgotten plans, mixed signals, late replies. but he’s never spoken to you like that before. never made you feel small.

you’ve seen jaehyun tired. you’ve seen him frustrated. but not like this. not with this edge. and for the first time since the two of you got together, you realize that love doesn’t shield you from moments like these. that even someone who sings you songs and holds you gently through the night can sound distant and cold.

eventually, he pulls over and cuts the engine. the car humming in the silence.

“baby,” he calls out, softer now, quieter. you don’t answer. just stare out the window.

he leans back against the headrest, rubbing his hands over his face, “i didn’t mean that,” he murmurs, voice heavy with regret.

still, you don’t respond. because maybe he didn’t mean it but he still said it and part of you wonders what else he’s thought and never voiced.

he sighs, “i’m sorry...i just, i’ve had a long week, and i wanted today to go perfectly and now we’re lost and running late and…” he trails off, frustration melting into guilt.

“you snapped at me,” you say finally, still not looking at him, “and i didn’t deserve that.”

“no, you didn’t,” he agrees. “i was out of line.”

you finally turn to face him and he looks… regretful. like he wants to rewind time. like he’s already punishing himself.

“i love you,” he adds, almost like a plea.

you nod slowly, your voice quiet. “i love you too, but don’t talk to me like that again.”

“i won’t,” he promises.

and you believe him. you always do.

but something unspoken lingers in the car after that. a sliver of tension that stays with you. because no matter how many i love you’s follow, you don’t forget the first time someone makes you feel like you’re too much.

jaehyun reaches across the console and gently takes your hand. you let him. and the car keeps driving, this time in silence, but with your fingers laced together like a quiet truce.

it’s the first real crack.

but sometimes, the cracks let everything else in.

the blonde.

frat parties were never your scene. sticky floors, booming bass, red solo cups, and bodies pressed too close together, it all felt too loud, too overwhelming. you haven’t been in one in a while but since your boyfriend was one of the frat’s favorite golden boys and the fact he practically begged you to come to the one tonight, here you were, weaving your way through the crowd in one of his oversized hoodies, searching for the only reason you even showed up.

you spot him before he sees you, standing dead center in the living room, drink in hand, laughing at something the girl in front of him said. giving her the dimpled smile you thought was only reserved for you.

she’s tall. blonde. pretty, in that effortless, dangerous way. the kind of girl you never learned how to be.

and her hand is on his arm. too familiar. too comfortable. she laughs again, tilting her head back, fingers tracing his bicep like it belongs to her. like she’s done it before. like she knows he won’t stop her.

he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t pull away. just smiles, lazy and amused as she leans in closer, lips brushing his ear as she whispers something that makes him laugh again.

your stomach churns.

it’s irrational, maybe. but also, maybe it’s not. maybe it’s the way her hand lingers too long. or the way he leans in like he doesn't even notice. or maybe it’s the way it makes you feel invisible in a room where you were supposed to be his favorite person.

then he sees you. his eyes meet yours through the crowd. locking for just a second. and something in his expression falters, like he didn’t expect to see you. like he forgot you’d be here.

and suddenly, you’re the one who looks away. like you’re the intruder. like you’re the one who was doing something wrong.

moments later, his arms snake around your waist from behind, “hey baby,” jaehyun murmurs in your ear, voice low and thick with alcohol, “you came.”

his breath is warm against your skin as he presses wet, messy kisses along your jaw and down your neck. he smells like whiskey and whatever cheap cologne she was probably wearing. his grip tightens like he’s afraid you’ll slip away but your body stays stiff in his hold.

you twist slightly to face him, placing a hand on his chest, a quiet boundary.

“who was that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, light, but the slight edge in your voice betrays you.

“hmm?” he hums, lips still trailing your skin.

“the girl. the one you were talking to.”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his gaze is hazy, but amused, he knows you too well. “have i ever told you how cute you are when you’re jealous?,” he teases, sucking that soft spot right below your ear.

you push him back. gentle but firm. your expression is blank. he notices.

“she’s just an old friend,” he adds casually, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear like that makes it all better, “don’t worry about it.”

and maybe that should be enough.

but something about the way he says it, the way he smiles, too easy, too quick to disregard your feelings. it all leaves a strange, sour taste in your mouth.

still, you don’t push it. not here. not in front of the crowd. not when he’s swaying slightly on his feet and leaning all his weight into you like you’re his safe place. like he doesn’t even realize how tightly your jaw is clenched.

later, in his room, it’s just the two of you with the door closed and the world outside muffled. he’s quieter now. less drunk. but his hands are still greedy. still tracing the places he’s always claimed a map he knows by heart. his hands finding their way beneath your shirt, along your thighs, between your legs.

you don’t stop him. because it’s easier to fall into him than to fight the pit in your stomach. easier to let yourself believe his mouth on your neck means i choose you. easier to kiss him back, let your clothes fall, let your bodies tangle in the dark. let yourself believe this means he’s still yours. all yours.

the sex is slow, tender, familiar. all mouths and murmurs and fingers threading through hair. he whispers your name like a prayer, like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the moment. he moves inside you like you’re the only thing tethering him to this moment. like if he touches you hard enough, long enough, all the cracks will seal shut again. and for a while, you forget. you forget the party. the blonde. the ache in your chest.

you just feel him.

“i love you,” he breathes. you say it back.

but when it’s over, when you’re curled against his chest, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your back, your eyes stay open in the dark.

his body is warm. his arms are wrapped around you. but something still feels different. something feels off.

like the air’s a little heavier. the silence is a little louder. your mind is miles away. still watching her laugh. still wondering why he didn’t move away.

you don’t ask. you don’t cry. you don’t accuse. you just lie there in the silence. and he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does but he doesn’t ask.

and that’s the part that stings the most. because love is still there. but the trust?

that might be the thing slipping quietly through the cracks.

the surprise.

it had been a brutal couple of weeks. your schedule had been merciless consisting of clinicals, overflowing textbooks, late-night study groups and back-to-back lectures. you barely had time to breathe. let alone see your boyfriend.

but you missed him. god, you missed him.

so today, on your first free day in weeks, you chose him. you skipped the library. you shut your laptop. you pushed aside your exhaustion and made time.

you spent the day learning how to make his favorite dish, the one he said tasted like home, the one he said he missed. you got the ingredients, followed the recipe, burnt it once, then tried again. the kitchen was a mess but your heart was full. you wanted it to be perfect.

you were nervous but excited. the kind of excitement that makes your fingers tingle and your heart race a little faster.

you hadn’t told him you were coming, you wanted to surprise him, make up for the time you’d been gone.

as you approached his dorm, your nerves bubbled up again. you balanced the container in your hands, smoothing your hair and checking your phone. no texts. even better. he had no idea that you were coming.

you knock once. no answer. you try the knob. it’s locked. you pulled out a duplicate of his key, the one he had made for you. hear the door click open.

and you step inside with a soft smile already forming, “jae?”

but his name dies in your throat. the smile doesn’t last. because there, tangled in his sheets, is jaehyun. half naked. sleepy-eyed. and she’s with him. the blonde.

your whole body stills, breath vanishing, fingers going numb, the container slipping from your hands and hitting the floor with a hearbreaking thud. you think you hear the lid crack open, food spilling out but you can’t look away from the bed.

from her. her mascara smudged, hair a mess, lips swollen.

jaehyun’s eyes follow hers, dazed, then panicked the second he sees you, “y/n.”

just your name. not baby.

“i—this—,” he stumbles over his words, sheet pooling at his waist as he sits up, guilt written across his face.

you don’t want to hear it. not the excuses. not the explanations. all you can see is the truth laid bare in front of you. her in his shirt, him in her arms, your world unraveling at your feet along with the meal you made just for him.

“this was supposed to be a surprise,” you whisper, your voice trembling, quiet and broken, like if you spoke any louder, you’d shatter completely.

“it’s not what it looks like!,” he pleads, getting up, grabbing his jeans like it would fix anything.

but it is what it looks like. it’s exactly what it looks like.

and it breaks you.

you blink once, twice, the tears blur the room but you don’t let them fall. not yet. “i really… really tried to make this work,” you say, your voice cracking, “i gave you everything i could and you—” you choke back the tears burning at the back of your throat, “you gave it to her.”

jaehyun looks like he’s about to break, but you don’t let him speak. you can’t. because you knew that if you stay any longer, if you let him reach you, touch you, beg you…you’d forgive him. you’d fold. you’d believe in him again. and he doesn’t deserve that.

so you turn. and you leave. you don’t look back. not even when he calls your name. not even when he runs after you, barefoot in the hall.

you don’t stop.

life without him.

the first week, you didn’t talk much. your voice felt foreign in your own throat. your phone buzzed more than usual. sometimes you wished his name would pop up but it never did. the only ones who cared enough were your friends. the ones who kept asking if you were okay. the ones who were quick to offer wine nights, sleepovers, distractions.

you appreciated it. but the truth was you weren’t okay. far from it. and the distractions never worked. but the silence always returned. every night. and maybe the absence was worse than the betrayal.

because every hallway you walked through had a memory of him. your brain betrayed you by replaying flashes of his smile. his hoodies still filled up half of your closet. his toothbrush was still next to yours. but he was no longer there.

the second week, you cried more. everything reminded you of him. the cars driving by, the campus cafe you both used to meet at where you once spent entire afternoons doing nothing but sharing fries and laughter, the songs that played.

worse than missing him was knowing that you weren’t allowed to anymore. not after what he did.

because the boy you missed, the one who kissed you at red lights, the one who wrote you a song. that boy chose someone else. with the same hands that used to only reach for you.

you try to explain it to your friends over dinner one night, but they don’t get it. they mean well. but they didn’t know him the way you did.

they didn’t see the version of jaehyun who whispered dreams into your ear at 3 a.m. who played you lullabies on his guitar when you couldn’t sleep. who kissed your knuckles before every exam and told you he believed in you. who made playlists just for long drives. who taught you how to parallel park without ever raising his voice.

so when they say things like “you’re better off” or “he didn’t deserve you anyway,” it doesn’t help.

it only makes you feel worse. because even if he doesn’t deserve you, you still want him. you still ache for him in every quiet moment.

and no one could unteach your heart what it already knew.

the third week, you almost called him. just once. your finger hovers over his name in your phone. but you don’t press it. because what would you even say? why wasn’t i enough? was she better? do you miss me? do you still love me?

no. you couldn’t do that to yourself no matter how badly you wanted answers.

you tried to return the pieces of him that haunts your space. walked all the way to his dorm, box in hand. but when you got to the door, the weight of it hit you so hard you turned right around and left. instead, you shoved everything under your bed. hoodie, pictures, all of the gifts he gave you throughout your relationship.

and you don’t call. you cry into your pillow instead.

the fourth week, you finally go to class again, with lipstick on. it’s not much. it doesn’t mean you’re over him. but it means you can at least walk into a room and not completely fall apart.

you even manage to laugh once, something your friends don’t miss. they send each other secret smiles when you’re not looking. they know it’s a good sign.

and even though you’re still grieving, still aching, still remembering him every time you hear a guitar strum, you start to find little moments of peace. not joy, not yet. but peace. tiny and fragile. but enough.

life without you.

he wanted to call, god, he wanted to.

every day since you left, his fingers hovered over your name. your contact was still saved with a heart beside it. still in his emergency. still starred.

the day you walked in on him — standing frozen with the lunchbox in your hands and tears burning in your eyes turned into a haunting memory.

you didn’t scream. you didn’t yell. you just looked at him like he’d shattered something sacred. and he ran after you, barefoot, panicked, half-dress and breathless.

but he stopped. and maybe that’s the part that haunts him the most.

he never called. not because he wasn’t sorry. not because he didn’t care. but because he didn’t know how to face the wreckage he caused. because deep down, he knew you deserved more than what he gave you. more than the version of himself that let you down in the worst way.

and the worst part? he had fallen for the blonde.

not in the way he fell for you, not the meteoric, world-tilting, i wrote you a song, kind of way.

but in a way that required no gravity. no weight. no soul.

he didn’t have to fight for the blonde. she showed up at every party, laughed at his jokes without really knowing what they meant. she kissed him like it was expected, not treasured. and she had time…time he hadn’t gotten from the girl he used to sit under the stars with.

he remembered that ache too well. the way you would cancel plans because of labs, fall asleep with textbooks in your lap instead of his arms, show up late with guilt in your eyes and coffee in your hands, apologizing with forehead kisses and tired smiles.

he missed you even then. missed the weight of your head on his chest. missed the silence you could sit in together without it ever feeling awkward. missed the way you loved him in your own quiet, exhausted ways.

but at some point, he got tired of missing you. of waiting. of feeling like second place to your ambition, your plans, your future he couldn’t see himself in.

so when the blonde leaned in close at that party, when her laugh filled the space that had been empty for too long, he didn’t pull away. he let it happen. over and over. until “don’t worry about it” turned into something else. something messier.

but nothing about it ever felt like you.

because every time she said his name, it never sounded right. every time she touched him, it didn’t burn like you. and no matter how many nights he spent tangled up in her limbs, he couldn’t get the memory of you out of his head.

he didn’t call. because he didn’t know what he’d say. because saying “i’m sorry” wouldn’t be enough. and saying “i still love you” would only hurt more.

he still played his guitar, but the songs didn’t sound the same. they didn’t come easy like they did when you were sitting cross-legged on his bed, humming along. he still laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. he scrolled through your socials more than he’d ever admit. he saw the smiles you posted with new cafes, new books, new friends. he wondered if you still thought of him. wondered if you hated him. worried that you didn’t.

sometimes at night, he found himself dreaming about you. vivid, disorienting dreams where you were still together, lying on the hood of his car with your fingers laced and the stars overhead. he’d wake up with tears in his eyes, and the blonde would ask what’s wrong?

he never had the heart to tell her.

he never had the heart to call you.

so instead, he stayed quiet. learned to live with the silence. with the guilt. with the ghost of a love that used to fill every corner of his world.

even as it killed him a little more each day.

three months after.

you passed each other on campus once. your hair was cut short, his has grown a little longer. both of you slowed. both of you looked. neither of you stopped.

he looked tired. not in a bad way. just older, like life weighed on him a bit. his hoodie was wrinkled. he had a stubble now. and he looked at you like you were the last page of a book he still wasn’t ready to put down.

there was a twitch in his fingers, a muscle memory of reaching for you. you saw it. you felt it. and you hated how much it made your chest ache. how your heart stuttered like it remembered a song it used to know by heart.

tha air between you was thick. electric. so many words. none of them spoken. he opened his mouth slightly as if to say your name but no sound came out. and you? you thought of every version of him you’d ever loved. including the one that cheated on you.

a part of you wanted to stop. to ask how he’d been. to ask if he ever missed you at 3a.m. when the world got too quiet. but you didn't. you kept walking. because what do you say to someone who once held your soul, and now only holds silence?

someone who couldn’t even love you enough to give explanations and apologies?

no words. no closure. just the aching knowledge that once, this person had been your entire world and now they were just a stranger with your memories.

back to present day. one year later.

you’d been driving for nearly an hour now, one of those late-night drives meant to quiet your thoughts, to press shuffle on a playlist full of nothing and everything. the road was nearly empty, the sky hazy with stars, and your fingers tapped anxiously against the wheel.

you didn’t even see the stop sign until it was too late. your foot slammed the brakes. the world lurched. metal kissed metal.

“holy shit!,” you yell. the jolt snapped you back to reality as your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline flushing through your veins.

of course you would crash your car the same week you got your license.

you stumbled out of the car, eyes wide, scanning for damage, panic rising in your throat. that’s when you heard it.

“y/n?!”

and your whole body froze. you didn’t have to look to know who it was.

that voice — the one you still heard in your dreams. the one that still echoed in the back of your head on days when you let yourself remember. the one you hadn’t heard in over a year but could recognize in a heartbeat. the one you made peace with.

slowly, you looked up, and there he was – jaehyun. standing on the other side of the road. frozen. like he’d seen a ghost. his jaw slack, eyes just as wide as yours.

for a second, neither of you said anything. you couldn’t.

he’s the last person you ever wanted to see in a moment like this. or maybe the first.

you swallowed hard, heat rising behind your eyes.

‘great. the universe fucking loves me.’

“hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice unsure, softer than you remembered.

his car looked fine, a little scratched on the side where your car clipped it, but nothing major. that’s when you noticed it.

“is that… a new car?”

“uh, yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

his eyes didn’t meet yours and that stung more than it should’ve. that awkwardness…that silence. you once knew everything he was feeling with a glance. now, you could barely read him.

“i… i’m really sorry,” you say quickly, trying to regain your footing, “i wasn’t paying attention. i’ll cover whatever damage��we can exchange info—”

he steps closer, inspecting the scrape between your two cars, “hmm, it’s fine. no one was hurt, and the damage isn’t bad. i can just get it fixed.”

your breath catches, “are you sure?”

“yeah.” short. clipped. just like the way he left you.

you nod, crossing your arms, trying to pull yourself back together, but the silence that followed was heavy. too full of things you’d never got to say.

“…you got your license,” he says quietly.

you look up, blinking in surprise, “uh… yeah, i-i did.”

and he smiled. that same dimpled smile. the one you used to love. the one you haven’t seen in months, but still feel somewhere beneath your skin. it felt like being hit by a memory and a wave of grief at the same time.

there’s a beat.

then he turns, ready to leave. but something inside you cracks open, that quiet ache that never fully healed. so you call out, voice just barely above a whisper.

“hey…jaehyun?”

he stopped, turned back, eyes searching, “yeah?”

you swallowed, heart thudding your chest. you looked at him, really looked at him, and you saw it. the sadness in his face, the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“i just…” your voice came out softer than you intended, “i just wanted to say thank you. for teaching me.”

he stared at you for a moment and something shifted in his face. his smile this time was different. not the one you fell for. this one was heavier. more tired. more honest.

he nods once, “you’re welcome.”

and in that moment, you knew. he regretted it. the blonde, the silence, the year without you. all of it.

but you both said nothing more because what was left to say?

you didn’t need his apologies anymore. you didn’t need anything from him at all.

so you mirror his nod. and without another word, the two of you head back to your cars.

two cars. two people. driving in opposite directions.

but the ache in your chest tells you you’re both still carrying pieces of each other that no one else ever really got to touch.

and maybe that’s the saddest part.

the crash from his eyes.

he hadn’t even planned to go out that night. the party invite sat unopened in his messages. the game on the radio blurred into background noise. he just needed to drive with the windows down, mind quiet, something to drown out the guilt that still clawed at him when he was alone.

he told himself he was fine. told his friends he’d moved on. smiled when the blonde kissed his cheek in public, even though it felt like swallowing sand.

but even though he got a new number, he never deleted yours. never stopped writing songs he never finished. never got around to throwing out the old hoodie you left in his dorm until it no longer smelled like you.

he didn’t expect the crash. didn’t see it coming until it jolted his body forward, his hands tightening instinctively on the wheel. the impact wasn’t bad. just enough to shock him.

he cursed under his breath, unbuckled, and got out, already preparing to reassure whoever hit him. but then he heard it.

“holy shit!”

that voice. your voice. his blood ran cold. he turned. and time stopped.

you were standing there, heart pounding, wide-eyed, with your car door open and your hands shaking. you looked older but still so god damn beautiful it hurt to breathe.

“y/n?!”

your name escaped before he could stop it. and when you turned to face him, something inside him cracked open.

he hadn’t seen you in a year. three hundred and sixty-five days of pretending he didn’t miss you.

of pretending it didn’t kill him every time someone brought you up. now here you were. like a ghost he hadn’t been ready to face and he was the idiot who still dreamed about you.

“hey, are you okay?” he asked, because what else could he say?

you nodded, clearly shaken, eyes flickering over the cars, the scratch, the damage, anything but him.

“is that… a new car?” you asked.

he ran a hand through his hair, forcing a breath,“yeah.”

he didn’t tell you that it was his way of trying to erase you. couldn’t tell you that it made it worse because now the passenger seat felt empty in the wrong ways.

you apologized, of course you did, still so considerate. still so gentle. even when he was the one who wrecked everything first.

“i’ll cover the damage…we can exchange info…”

god. you were nervous. rambling. and he hated that you were talking to him like a stranger.

“it’s fine,” he said quietly. because no scratch on a bumper could compare to the wreckage of you leaving his life.

“are you sure?” you sounded uncertain. like you didn’t trust him anymore.

you were right not to.

“yeah,” he said again. bare. hollow. final.

he should’ve told you then. told you that he still thought about you every time he passed the cafe on campus. that the blonde was long gone, that she never really stayed, because she could feel what he didn’t say. that the only reason he hadn’t called was because he didn’t know how to say i never stopped loving you without falling apart.

but instead, he said something stupid.

“you got your license.”

and when you smiled, shy and small, it undid him. that smile. that softness. the same one that made him feel like maybe love didn’t have to hurt.

you didn’t say much. didn’t ask how he was. didn’t offer closure. not like, he deserved it. but then, just as he turned to leave, you stopped him.

“hey…jaehyun?”

his name on your lips again. he turned, heart thudding, eyes burning.

“i just wanted to say thank you. for teaching me.”

and he almost lost it right there. because that was you, even now. still choosing gratitude over bitterness. still offering peace, when all he’d left you with was silence.

“you’re welcome,” he whispered.

but what he really wanted to say was:

i’m sorry. i never meant to hurt you. you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i didn’t realize it until it was too late. i think I’ll always love you.

instead, he watched you return to your car. and he did the same.

he drove off into the night with a hollow in his chest that hadn’t shrunk in a year and he knows that missing space will always be in your hands.

THE END.

͙͘͡★

an: finishing this feels likes a breath of relief not gonna lie. thank you for reading! let me know who you would like to see in this series! i’m thinking maybe johnny with enough for you next? but idk! leave your thoughts with me if you’d like <3

#jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun angst #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #withsourseries

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call-me-mother-darling · 1 day ago

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Obsidian Doves

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

AU: My dearest how will I ever express how deeply sorry I am. I have been neglectful and have made time to put this out for you. I had so much time on my hands while I was sick so I just went ahead and finished this for you. I appreciate each and every one of you. I soon need to step away from the smut and write some ungodly heartbreaking scenes again. I apologize in advance for whenever that comes out. Also in honor of pride month I decided to release this a couple days earlier. Love you <3

Feedback is always encouraged!

No Plot, just 2k words of smut.

Warnings: Lesbianism, men being pigs (brief), shower sex, smut, mommy kink, bdsm themes

If I missed anything lmk

Word Count: 4,498

Her energy guides mine so naturally. During this mission we have to stake out at a party. Meaning dressing the part and acting like we are so madly in love with each other. With the team knowing who I’ve been crushing over, of course I am partnered with Nat, they tease me any chance they get. Like daring me to kiss her during truth or dare. I always come back to reality bright red, how truly embarrassing.

This “party” was going to be the death of me, with the small touches as she passes me. My lower back, my arms, my hips, my ass, anything she can get her hands on. By the end of the night my brain is foggy and I follow her every move, every word. She holds me against her and I feel like I am on top of the world. Like I am wanted so deeply. Just with her gaze I can fall into place. I don’t know how she does it. How we fall into our roles so perfectly.

The people around us eat it up. They believe every word she says. They believe she owns one of the most important companies to attend this party. Each year they throw a party to raise money for cancer research. We are here because one of the members on the council has been embezzling money from the main company. That’s why he’s the richest of them all. His name is Jim Guardwell. I try my best to keep my anger at a minimum around that bastard, they can’t figure out why we are really here.

“ How amazing for you two to join us.” Jim says. Giving us a smug smile.

“Amazing to be here Jim.” Natasha says, gripping my waist tightly. He eyes me, taking in all my curves and I can’t help but feel disgusted with myself.

“How are the donations doing this year?” Natasha asks, grabbing his attention.

“Currently we are sitting at about one million. We have a lot of big spenders tonight.” A playful smirk crosses his lips. If we didn’t know what it is doing we wouldn’t have questioned the slight gleam in his eye. It could easily come across as happiness but the way he stands a little too confidently and the way he looks at everyone like they owe him something tells me everything we were told about him is true. He doesn’t care about anyone in this room. His rolex, Van Cleef cufflinks, and very badly made suit tell me everything I need to know about his view of money.

“That sounds wonderful sir. It was wonderful speaking to you but we have to get going. Big meeting tomorrow.” I say with a bright innocent smile. The last thing I want to do is escalate the situation.

“Aw what a shame, I was enjoying the view.” He says. Before I knew it Natasha’s fist was forcing his head back.

“Oh no.” I say pulling Natasha off of him and dragging her out to the car.

“Are you okay Hun.” I ask worriedly.

“Yes. I couldn’t stand him talking about you like that. I couldn’t sit there and not do anything.” She says opening my door before closing it behind me.

“I know Nat but you could’ve gotten really hurt. We knew what we were going into. I’m surprised he didn’t say something sooner. We can’t let them get to us okay?” I say as she gets into the driver's side and turns the car on.

“I’m surprised too. I’m glad you're okay Detka.” Her fingers lift my chin up, my eyes meeting hers.

“You look so beautiful tonight.” Her thumb rubs my jaw softly, a small smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. Any disgust from earlier vanishing. The only thing I see is her eyes staring right back at me. My body begs to just jump on her lap and kiss her like there is no tomorrow. But alas I can’t. The whole ride back I’m going to be squeezing my thighs together.

The ride back from the party was in one of Tony’s blacked out SUVs. I had told him if we want to blend in we need a more realistic car but he would not budge on our safety here. We’re dealing with highly trained individuals. Nat was an expert in these missions. I trusted her with my life. Her hand possessively on my thigh gives me reason to believe she’d protect me with her life. I rest my head on her shoulder and I say

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, we're alone." Even with all the signs proving she feels something for me I need to make sure she’s okay.

“I know hun. I can take my hand away if that’s more comfortable for you! I couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight. You fit so well by my side just got me thinking. I don’t want to do this with anyone but you.” Her hand loses her grip on my leg and her thumb rubs my knee.

“It’s okay Nat. You can keep your hand there.” I take a deep breath before finding the confidence to say what’s on my mind.

“ I feel safe with you, you know? I loved being by your side at the party. I feel we blend so perfectly. No one even batted an eye at us.” A small smile tugs at my lips.

“I agree my little dove. Although, I feel your last statement is not entirely correct. From my eyes no one was questioning us because their jaws were too busy being on the floor from looking at you.” When we get to a red light she kisses my head. I can feel my cheeks brightening at her statement alone.

“Thank you for your kind words Nat.” I say softly.

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” She says. My body immensely relaxes more into her arm. I lean my head against her bicep letting my body fully relax. I’ve never felt this safe around someone. I welcome the feeling more than I would like to admit.

The rest of the ride was so peaceful. Soft jazz played through the speaker and I watched as we passed all the city lights and soon were surrounded by trees. Tony insisted we go to his massive hotel in the middle of nowhere. He had gone on and on about our safety for this mission. How being two women alone is extremely dangerous. She ignored the fact that we have both been through the Red Room and have over five hundred confirmed kills. He just goes full dad mode whenever I go on a mission. Tears well in my eyes. Today was so beautiful, my life has become so beautiful. Even through all the PTSD, I'm so grateful to have a family now. I look at Nat and smile. I plant a kiss on her cheek, closing my eyes. I want to enjoy the feeling of this.

When we got to the hotel the parking lot was empty except for about ten cars parked next to each other. I can only assume they are all workers. They are also surrounding the only light so I can also assume that is the safest spot to part in at night.

“I'm going to complain to Tony that his employees don’t have their own locked parking area. If they are going to be working late they need a safe area to park in.” I say getting out of the car.

“He has no excuse for why it’s not done. That man’s a millionaire. I’ll be damned if he doesn’t keep his workers safe.” I voice, annoyed, as Natasha opens the truck and she grabs our duffel bags.

“Yes I will be taking our stuff, don’t even think of opening that pretty little mouth and you are one hundred percent right. They deserve to be safe. It’s so dangerous at night.” She says stopping me in my tracks, my mouth snapping shut.

“See now that's my good girl. Let’s go inside.” She says holding her hand out. Her eyes gave me a look of questioning. Like they were asking if this is okay. I grin and take her hand. Letting her lead us to the front desk.

“Good evening ladies, what can I do for you?” The kind receptionist asks.

“Hi, we have a reservation for tonight. It should be under Natasha Romanoff.” I say giving her a sweet smile.

“Ah yes, Natasha. Mr. Stark said you’d be staying with us tonight. The room she originally booked had two beds but Mr. Stark had called and got you into our suite. That just means there is only one Alaskan king bed. Will that be okay with you guys?” She asks kindly.

“Yes, that will be perfect.” Natasha answers before I get the chance to correct her.

“Perfect, here's your key. Should be room 227. It's on the fifteenth floor, you can use the elevators that are down that hall.” She says handing us the key and pointing to the hall she mentioned.

What am I going to do? I have to sleep next to her for the rest of the weekend. How am I going to survive? She seems fine with it but what if I make her uncomfortable.

“Hey Nat? Are you sure you’re comfortable sleeping in the same bed as me?” I ask.

“Yes sweetheart. If I could spend every night with you I would. Just to make it clear.” She says stopping abruptly. Dropping the duffel bags as soon as we get in the elevator and hit our floor. Her hands pull me close by my hips, her forehead touching mine. My gaze switches between her lips and her breathtaking eyes.

“Please kiss me.” I almost whine. She doesn’t waste another minute before our lips meet and my arms wrap around her neck pulling her impossibly close. Slowly, our bodies move and she has me trapped between the wall and herself. Her lips trail to my cheek and down my neck. Nipping at sensitive parts. My moans soon fill the elevator.

Her hands grip the back of my thigh letting my leg wrap around her hip trying to pull her closer. My fingers getting lost in her hair, pulling at it when her teeth scrape at my skin.

Much to our disdain the doors to the elevator open and she pulls away panting,

“Behave until after dinner, Okay hun?” I nod quickly.

“Yes Nat.” I answer and follow her to our room. Praying to the gods to take away my throbbing between my legs. To let me walk without shaky legs.

The walk to the room was anything but simple. A slight sway in my steps as my brain racks through all of my feelings. The feeling of her touch on me.

Nat waits for me at the door. Holding it open with an arm and eyeing me like a piece of candy.

“I think I might take a shower before we go to dinner. It’s late and I need to wake up a little.” I say listing off the first excuse I could think of.

“Okay, darling, I'll be in the room.” A small smile pulls at her lips.

I quickly move past Natasha and straight into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I back into the door taking a deep breath. This bathroom is gorgeous, there is no way this doesn’t go over our budget even with the discount. The countertops are beautiful marble, the faucet a shiny gold. The floor is a classic white tile polished to the heavens. The shower takes up most of the room. Having two rainfall shower heads with a mirror as the outside walls. A blush creeps up my cheeks at the thoughts of what Natasha would do to me.

My body vibrates at the thought of her hands on me, guiding my thoughts, my movements.

No, stay focused. I remind myself.

I strip out of my almost too tight dress and heels. Hanging the dress in the small linen closet, leaving my heels on the floor in front of the sink. The heat spreading throughout my body is almost too much to bear. I need to get cold water on me or I fear my skin might erupt into flames. Our little interaction started a fire in me that I didn’t know I had.

My hands make haste in turning the shower knob to the coldest temperature possible. Letting myself in and closing the glass door behind me. My knees falling to the floor, letting the cold water cool my body. But the cold did nothing to soothe the ache coming from in between my legs. I flipped my body. My torso just out of reach of the water and my legs angled perfectly in the rain. My legs spread, my back arching at the water hits my swollen clit. A deep moan escapes from my chest.

My hand secures itself over my lips muffling the sound of my enjoyment, with the water hitting all the perfect spots I can’t help but get closer and closer. My breath quickening, my mind only thinking of one thing. Her. Her hands on me. On my hips, my thighs, in between my lips. My imagination runs wild with how her fingers would expertly touch every part of my body. Claiming me as hers.

A small muffle of words stops me dead in my tracks. I can barely hear it but a hum follows it as furniture is moving around. Curious, I open my eyes to find the room has gotten brighter and a shadow casts over me.

“Now what do we have here?” her voice dripping with seduction. I can’t move.

I’ve heard of this kind of bathroom but I've never witnessed it in person. Those mirrors that lined the wall of the shower, they were two way mirrors. Instead of my reflection staring back at me, Natasha looks into my soul. I’m so fucked.

“Don’t stop on my account, little one. Give mommy a show, why don't you?” She pushes the chair in the middle of the wall watching your body intently. Like a cheetah daring you to run.

But I can’t move. Her eyes hold me in place.

“Shall I have to guide you through it? I bet your cunt just begs for my fingers, huh? Darling.” The nic-name sounding like a moan. My cheeks set fire and positioned myself back in the water. Letting my clit get rained on. I need more, I need her fingers.

“Atta girl, listening to mommy.” A small moan falls from my lips, a whine quickly following.

“Come on baby, I know you can use your words.” Her tone teasing.

“I need you mommy. I need your fingers.” I moan pleading. My hips buck into the water making her eyes flash to my hips. The want ever more apparent.

“Dry yourself off and lay your ass on the bed.” Her voice unwavering and ready to pounce. I do exactly as told. My hands shake with anticipation. After drying off I slowly walk to the bed, very aware of her eyes taking in my body, like she is ready to feast. Her talented fingers strip her of every piece of clothing she has on. Leaving her body for my eyes to devour.

My back hits the cold sheets while I keep my legs bent and together. My legs shake as her confident steps walk towards me. Her nails finally making contact with my legs.

“You are such a needy little thing. You couldn’t wait to be fucked. So you had to go do it yourself. Now I am going to use you and you will watch. If I see your eyes wandering, I will stop. Is that understood, darling?” Her voice not yet daring but serious. My eyes water at the safety I feel in this very moment. My brain is turning to absolute mush.

“Yes Natasha. I trust you with my whole life. Do you have a safe word? I use obsidian.” I ask gently.

“I use dove. Thank you for asking my beautiful girl. Now spread those perfect legs of yours.” A small smile spreads across my lips as my legs open for her.

A sultry groan comes from her. My eyes scan her face for any hesitancy but all I find is pure hunger. Her teeth take her bottom lip between them as she lowers herself to my dripping cunt.

“Mmmm already so wet for me, sweet thing. How blessed am I?” She smiles, dipping her head down to kiss and nip at my inner thighs. I can’t help but moan. I watch as her pupils dilate as her teeth dig into my thigh. My back arches, my hips trying to get closer to her mouth.

“Now that pretty little moan you just made?” I nod aimlessly to her question, too lost in her nails digging into my hips. Pulling me closer to her mouth.

“I need you to do it again and don’t stop. If you stop, I will stop everything. Understood?”

“Yes mistress.” That hit something in her. Her whole demeanor changed.

“Am I allowed to use you how I really want? Like how we deduced before?” We had a conversation when I was drunk. I told her about all of my kinks and told her everything I would allow her to do to me. When I was a fully functioning human again she sat me down and asked again. I agreed with everything drunk me said.

“Yes mistress.” My whole body breaks out in a cold sweat as it waits for it to happen.

“Beg for it.” Her tone is low. Not asking, but commanding.

“Please mommy, I’ve been craving you for so long. Please, please, I just want your fingers in me. To fill me to the brim and only stop when you feel right..” The plea fell from my lips almost immediately. I wanted her on me now.

“Now that's a good girl.” Her tongue licks her teeth before they dig into my other thigh. I gasp at the sensation.

“Can I touch you?” I moan. Watching as her lips pull away from my thigh, her eyes dark.

“Since you asked so politely, yes.” She was quick to put her mouth on me again. Her lips sucking my thighs. Showering me with bruises. My fingers run through her hair, gripping it at every bite.

Her tongue moves to my fold as a loud moan tears through me. Her warm muscle circles my already swollen clit. My hips move against her tongue begging for more friction.

I don’t know if I can take this, it’s edging on too much. Her hands all over my body, her mouth devouring my very soul. A never ending line of moans come from my lips but I am too lost in her to notice.

“Please, mistress.” I beg.

“What's wrong baby? Didn’t I tell you to use your sweet words?” Natasha teases, tongue flicking my sensitive bud.

“Fuck. I need your fingers. Please mistress, I'll be good. I just need you to stretch me.” My hands move to the gorgeous dark oak headboard. Digging my fingertip into the wood.

“Oh what a naughty girl I have at the mercy of my tongue. I will do as you wish, pretty girl.” Two digits slip into me, meeting no resistance.

“No please, I need more.” I don’t wait to beg for more. I need her to stretch me.

“So needy.” She slips two more digits into me while her tongue continues her merciful technique.

My back arches so high off the bed I can fully see the head board behind me. Her pace begins slow while I get used to the fullness.

“Yes, fuck me.”

“Oh darling. I fully intend to fuck you so deeply you feel me for weeks.” Her fingers begin pounding into my wet cunt. Hitting my sweet spot every single time. There is only the feeling of her inside of me. Of her lips kissing up my body to worship my breasts. My back hits the wine satin sheets. The cool sensation is almost comforting.

Natsha wastes no time in bringing my attention back to her. Hip hips guide her fingers deep in me. Deeper than she has ever been before. I am at a loss for words. My brain can only make up random noises.

“Ah, ya- yes- rig- ther- fu.” An evil chuckle comes from the women above me.

“That's right baby. Who does this pussy belong to? Huh little angel?” Her tone dripping with sweet venom.

“Y-you. I belong to you. All of me.” I attempt between each debilitating thrust.

Her forearm hits my clit perfectly from this angle. I look up into her eyes, just now noticing she moved fully above me. Her eyes are dark. As deep as the bottom of the ocean.

“That’s right baby. You, all of you. Belongs to me.” Each thrust has even more emotion than the last. Her bottom lip is nestled between her teeth while sweat glistens off her forehead. Dominance radiates off of her. Just by the way her eyes devour my body I can tell she's enjoying this just as much as I am. I can feel the cord about to break. With our bodies so close, like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together.

“Natasha I’m so close. You feel so good in me.” This only seems to spur her on. Her movement begins to lose it. Her arm shakes, her eye brows furrowed, her fingers pound into me with even more passion.

“Say my name when you cum.” Her command leaves no room for arguing. She brings her head down to connect her lips to my neck. Biting harshly.

“Nat.” I moan. Her ungodly pace along with her mouth on me sent me over the edge. I can feel the pool she just pulled from the depths of my soul as she helps me ride out my orgasm.

Her lips meet mine as she slowly pulls her fingers from me.

“You did so good for me baby.” Her tone is sweet with love. She moves her body next to me. Gently pulling me in her arms.

“You felt so good. I’ve never experienced something as euphoric as that. I mean I felt so safe and I trust you with my life.” I smile wide at her kissing her cheek.

“Oh what did I do to deserve you. Your body reacting to every single one of my touches almost drove me over the edge. You were so beautiful coming undone like that. I would love to be able to do that again.” Her smile never faded as her lips met mine. Locking me in a deep kiss.

“Why don’t we go shower together? I would love to return the favor.” I pull away just enough to get the words out. A small smirk appears on her face.

“Mmm I love that idea. Come on cutie, let's get cleaned up.” She says tapping my ass leading the way to the shower.

This time the water was warm. She had grabbed my hand, helping me in the shower with my shaky legs.

“I really did a number on you, huh baby?”

“Well I did beg you to use me.” I laugh, grabbing the body wash and net sponge and handing it to her.

“Would you mind getting my back?” Her smile is so bright as she takes the soap. I hear her put the soap on my back. Using her hands after the soap got a good lather, her fingertips massage my tight muscles and I relax into her. Her hands grip my shoulders lightly.

“Get on your knees for me.” She whispers softly. Without hesitation I fall to my knees. The tile dig into my legs, making me spread them so I am sitting on the arches of my feet.

Her warm finger tips grip my chin making me look up at her. The steam surrounding us only separating for her. Her body like a goddess.

“Now, I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours on mommy. Can you do that for me?” I nod immediately. She turns around with so much pose and confidence to lean against the wall.

“Crawl to me.” Her tone switches in an instant. Now emanating power. My body moves before I even have time to think. My tongue begging to me to be on her. My hands steady myself on the slippy tiles. I sway my hips the best I can as she eyes my waist.

“Good girl. Now put your mouth to good use.” I lift her leg on my shoulder. My tongue finds her throbbing clit with ease. Her wetness already coating my chin. I lick up her juices like this is the last meal I’ll ever eat. Her hands quickly find a way into my hair. Pulling and proding at my scalp.

“Yes my darling, just like that. Keep going for mommy.” She says. I moan in response, sending vibrations through her body. My fingers dig into the leg on my shoulder while my other hand is holding her hip against the wall. I can tell her legs are shaky as my tongue wraps around her clit.

She tastes heavenly. I finally found my happy place and it’s in between this goddess’ thighs. I suck and nip on the spot she favors the most. Making her more wet by the second. Loud moans echo through our glass enclosure. The water is running luke-warm by now.

Her thigh trembles against my head making me only double my efforts. My tongue finds the pace her body reacts to the most and I keep it. Not letting up. Her thighs lock my head in place, the dizziness almost claiming me but I am too focused on pushing her over the edge.

My pace stays the same but only hard. Her hip jerked into my face.

“Yes. Oh my god. Yes baby. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” Her voice low.

I press my tongue into her firmly. That pushed her over the edge. I look up just in time to see her back arch off the wall, mouth open wide as her cum fills my mouth.

“Holy shit baby.” She says breathless kneeling down to my level. I quickly rid of my cum filled mouth and smiled brightly at her.

“You did so good, baby.” Her tone as sweet as honey.

“You taste so good I could stay between your thighs all day.” I smile, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

“While I would love that I will need to take a rain check.” She chuckles.

“Yes, mistress. Now let's get cleaned up. I’m sure dinner is almost over by now.” She chuckles at that, giving my ass a firm tap. Enough to sting but not hurt.

“You little minx.”

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lvrsturniolo · 2 days ago

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FIRST TIMES MINISERIES— FT. MATT STURNIOLO

011. First Move

cw; matt crying. chris crying. CRYING. that’s all.

a/n; one chapter left ! ☹️

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

The morning sun is already warm as it streams through the windows of your new house, lighting up the hardwood floors in soft gold. It smells like fresh paint and cardboard. Boxes line the walls— some labeled in your handwriting, others in Matt's.

Your daughter sleeps against your chest, tucked into the soft gray wrap she’s already grown used to. Her breathing is slow and even, a faint warmth against your skin. She doesn’t know yet that this is home. That this is where the next part of her life begins. Where the next part of yours begins.

You stand in the living room barefoot, watching through the window as Matt, Chris, and Nick carry the last of the boxes up the driveway. The street is familiar—quiet, lined with palm trees and too much sunlight—but the house isn’t. Not yet. It still echoes when you speak, waiting to be filled with the furniture the boxes hold.

Matt steps inside a few minutes later, arms full, face unreadable.

He puts the box down and just stands there. Like the weight he’s carrying has nothing to do with what’s in his hands.

You don’t say anything at first. You just watch him look around the room—at the couch you bought together, the nursery door slightly ajar, the keys on the hook by the front door. All of it brand new and already his.

When his eyes meet yours, there’s something behind them—quiet and heavy. You shift Christine against your chest and cross the room slowly until you’re standing in front of him.

“She’s asleep,” you whisper.

He nods, but doesn’t look away. “It feels… different now that it’s all in here. Realer.”

You reach up, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “It’s not that I’m not happy. Im so so happy. I’m just… I’ve never lived anywhere without them. I don’t know how to do that.”

You nod, keeping your voice low. “You don’t have to know yet. You’re not doing it alone. You’ve got us now.”

Before he can answer, the front door creaks open behind you.

Chris walks in quietly, box in his arms. He doesn’t say anything— which is kind of scary to you. He just puts the box down beside the others… and then walks straight over to Matt.

No words. Just a hug. Tight. Long.

Matt lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, his hand gripping the back of Chris’s sweatshirt.

Chris stays like that for a while, his forehead against Matt’s shoulder. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are glassy. He wipes at them quickly but doesn’t hide it.

“I know it’s stupid,” he mutters. “You’re literally down the street.”

Matt shakes his head. “It’s not stupid.”

“You’re the one I’ve always had a room next to. Every place. Every night. Even when we were little.” Chris laughs quietly through his tears. “The one time we split rooms, I ended up dragging my mattress into yours by the second night.”

Matt huffs a breath that’s almost a laugh. His voice is thick when he says, “You snored.”

“You snored louder.”

Nick appears in the doorway then, carrying the last couple of boxes. He stops when he sees the scene in front of him, a slow breath leaving his chest. But he doesn’t interrupt.

Instead, he sets the boxes down quietly and leans against the wall, arms folded as he watches his brothers have their moment.

It’s not a goodbye, of course, but it is the end of something.

You step in beside Matt and slide your hand into his. He squeezes it tight.

Chris clears his throat and blinks hard. “Alright. I’m done crying now.”

“No you’re not,” Nick says gently.

Chris gives a weak laugh. “Shut th’hell up.”

Matt looks between them and then back at the room again. It’s still not fully settled, still scattered with half-unpacked boxes. But when he looks at you—with your daughter in your arms, standing in the middle of the room that belongs to you three—you can see it hit him all over again.

He’s home.

And for the first time… it’s not because of where his brothers are. It’s because of you.

————————————

That night, the house is quiet in a way Matt’s never really experienced before.

Not silent. Not cold. Just settled.

Christine is asleep in her crib. The nursery glows softly with the light of the monitor. And in the next room, Matt lies beside you in bed, your hands intertwined, the quiet between you filled with everything you both feel but don’t need to say.

“This place is gonna be filled with her firsts,” he whispers eventually.

You nod, voice soft. “Her first steps. First words. First birthday.”

Matt looks over at you, his eyes a little glossy in the dark. “It’s not just her, though. It’s mine too. First home I’ve ever had that’s mine. First one I don’t share with them. First time I’ve had a life like this.”

You slide closer, kissing his temple. “You deserve it. And they’re still with you. You’ll always have them. But this… this is yours.”

He swallows hard. “Ours.”

And that’s how the first night in your new home ends—wrapped around each other, the sound of your daughter breathing softly through the monitor, and the promise of everything that’s just beginning.

im so sad for this to end guys :( but thank you all sm for the love and support for this series !! i truly love soso much seeing you guys enjoy it :)

tags; @emely9274 @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @sophand4n4 @chrislover696969 @slvt4chriss @ivysturnss @riasturns @auttysturnz @iloveduckssm @tezzzzzzzz @lezleeferguson-120

#mel’s first times miniseries #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo

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lavender-twilight23 · 1 day ago

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THUNDERBOLTS* ESSAY POST ANALYSIS THING BC I HAVE TO SHARE MY HYPERFIXATED FANDOM THOUGHTS

I’ve had this in my head for a while, but I really want to share it because I haven’t heard anybody else mention it before.

It’s about Bob because who else would it be about, everything is about him in my head nowadays 😅

Spoilers!

ANYWAYS I love digging deep into fandom details or pieces of dialogue that hint to deeper things, and I wanna talk about THIS LINE from the post-credits scene:

“…I can’t be the Sentry without the other side.”

It’s a simple line and all, it’s also pretty exposition-y I guess, which doesn’t bother me, because it’s Bob, and it’s a piece of info that is probably gonna be important heading into Avengers: Doomsday.

But then I realized the implications of that line.

At the end of Thunderbolts*, Bob had absolutely no memory of anything that had happened. Not the Sentry, not the Void, not his superpowers, not any of it. So for him to say that in the post-credits scene and DIRECTLY MENTION the Sentry AND indirectly the Void as well means that at some point within those 14 months, Bob would’ve had to 1) remember what had happened, 2) remember that he has superpowers in the first place 3) realize that the New York incident with the Void was caused by him, and 4) in order to know that he can’t be the Sentry without the Void, he would’ve had to TRY to be the Sentry and then the Void would’ve had to come out, probably resulting in some sort of dangerous situation which made it so Bob was too scared to try again.

And the reason why I say that last part is because even after 14 months of time in which Bob probably worked on himself a lot and formed a good life with the team, he still seems incredibly cautious and nervous about the topic of the Void. He refers to the Sentry by name, but NOT the Void. When he says “the other side,” he slows down and says it nervously, like he’s scared to actually say the words ‘the Void.’ It’s like he’s treating it like a ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ thing.

I’ve heard that some people are nervous that Marvel might ‘brush off’ Bob’s mental health issues in the future of the MCU, similar to how Tony’s anxiety was dealt with: Meaning that Tony’s anxiety was a main struggle for him in Iron Man 3, but then after he overcame that bad stretch, it wasn’t really tackled or faced in that scale or brought up in detail again.

To be honest, I don’t think Marvel is gonna do that, and it’s because of that ONE line from Bob. If they were going to brush off his mental health issues in the future of the MCU, why not have him just refer to both the Sentry and the Void by name with ease? And/or why not have him be comfortable or familiar with his powers/different sides of himself?

No, not only does Bob seem incredibly uncomfortable when the topic is brought up, he can’t even SAY ‘the Void,’ by name. And the simple fact that he can’t be the Sentry without the Void implies that– regardless of any experimenting/training that he’s done over the 14 months– he doesn’t have full control over his powers and is pretty unsure around his own superpowered strength. AND after Bob says the line, instead of elaborating or trying to defend himself a bit more, he immediately changes the topic and says he did the dishes. All of that screams his discomfort and apprehension regarding the topic of his powers and the Void, which shows me that he still not only has a lot of growing-into-his-powers to do, but he still has a LONG way to go with being comfortable with his powers and being okay with his mental illness.

And not for nothing, but his powers are DIRECTLY TIED to his mental illness. So if Marvel was going to ‘brush off’ his mental illness or not tackle it again, they would have to ignore the very NATURE of the Sentry and the Void. The Void is pretty much the physical manifestation of Bob’s depression. I don’t think Marvel would be able to ‘brush off’ his mental illness, and then simultaneously have the Void exist.

Anyways, there’s my disorganized yet incredibly specific Thunderbolts* ramble, enjoy :P

#my thunderbolts posts #thunderbolts #new avengers #the new avengers #the thunderbolts #sentry #the void #bob thunderbolts #robert reynolds #the sentry #bob reynolds #hyperfixation

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lyrasunreality · 3 days ago

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my thoughts while reading sunrise on the reaping:

~ pre-reading ~

ok, a new hunger games book, featuring haymitch’s games… interesting, guess i’ll add it to my tbr

{not that longish later & unable to stop thinking about it}: ok, stop the world, guess i’m reading this now. i have to know what happened

~ while reading ~

ok, so it’s haymitch + lenore dove, got it

so haymitch has the same-ish background as katniss where they do illegal things to survive. i have a feeling this will be the first of several parallels / reasons why katniss + haymitch had a connection

not a drinker haymitch, aw this is already sad. for once knowing a character’s fate makes a book better. this is going to be such a tragic decline. i can’t wait.

haymitch + lenore dove are just not going to be ok, there is no way they are getting this sweet ending meeting back in the field after the reaping. it’s not happening

maysilee donner, described as stuck up and the meanest girl in town… i think i’ve found my favourite character

ok, so the reaping has started, haymitch is doomed

ok ok so he doesn’t get reaped at the reaping

… this is so much worse + way more tragic + messed up, but it’s the hunger games. this feels actually more fitting than being genuinely reaped

yep yep yep, maysilee donner is officially my favourite character. she is audacious and i love her and i think that is not going to be good for my heart

i hate drusilla

sweetheart… aw

favourite scene so far: i love maysilee sticking it to them, eating a sandwich with a knife and fork

“If you let them treat you like an animal, they will. So don’t let them.”

very interested to see how these games and pre-game events differ from the 74th games

ok, katniss had it way better

katniss and peeta getting escorted by the team of effie + haymitch is looking like a much better deal now

no mentors… way to make a doom-bound situation feel more hopeless

this treatment of the tributes + the pre-game requirements + the living conditions + the training conditions are so much worse than it was for the year katniss got reaped

these names. they are… so lame and obvious and on the nose and i… don’t hate it? i kind of like an extra helping of cheese in my make-believe stories. of course, i am going to try and connect the names to the district industries like a detective bc i have forgotten which did what and i cant resist

i know they are going to get the coal black, dull, terrible outfits but i want so much better for them

i hate magno stift

louella… holy hell

will lenore dove replace her? as punishment for hatmitch’s rebellious move? it’s twisted but i really want that to happen

alliance offer… interesting

oooh, head of the parade person executed for the mess up, not strictly fair but that tracks

this whole scene is disturbing and weird

what. the. actual. hell. lou lou

i really wanted lenore dove to be the replacement

this alliance is getting interesting

this scheme is getting interesting

no way it works the way they want

curious to see how it goes wrong

maysilee + the necklaces

all of maysilee’s scenes

a one… idk, i get it, but it but it feels a little contrived honestly

i hate magno stift again even more

these capitol people are so lovably sweet and stupid in their ignorance and tactlessness

effie trinket!!! i love effie trinket

that was actually a perfect effie intro

lou lou hissing + everyone being ok with it

until she starts screaming murder at least

cringe. a lot of cringe at this interview

maysilee is still the best

sweet tribute moments made to break hearts in a few hundred pages

i… kind of love this idea for the arena? sweet pretty poison and death

yeah… expected the stuff to be poisonous, with the apples in the bag + the general peace and beauty of the setting + the fact he didn’t add tablets or boil the water first

well, running off alone + poisonous everything is a solid way of accounting for off page deaths

i get the covey naming conventions are important but i am actually tired of reading lenore dove every second line. she’s not even in the games, she’s not even here and she is constantly mentioned and her name is forever appearing and it is exhausting me and driving me mad. she has been mentioned fifty thousand times at least

i get it. he loves her.

pls we can stop with the lenore dove mentions

i wonder if suzanne collins just copied and pasted lenore dove so she could just ctl+v instead of typing it out every time

camping is not… super exciting. still more exciting than the harry potter camping situation though

bye lou lou, you had so much more potential to be far more chaotic + problematic and do something really impactful but i guess you were an interesting presence for a while

woah, that’s going to lead to a lot of deaths

twisted + perfect that even the ash is pretty

ampert, yay, i’m pretty sure you’re future dead meat but i like you

there is still… so much book to go. this is not going work.

i don’t think haymitch will die but I’m pretty sure ampert will

yep. sad.

that’s such a twisted death but amazingly tragic imagery

… the results / impact / execution of that whole end-the-games plot was kind of underwhelming considering how much in-universe thought and character involvement risk + out of universe writing was dedicated to it

well, on to the next play

perfectly convenient timing maysilee, but i’m just glad you’re here. also not glad bc it means you’re probably going to die soon

woah, hello gamemakers, this is interesting. poor interns. getting the rough jobs everywhere

this… ladybug stuff? feels weirdly small-time considering all the other massive arena threats + mutts + murderous tribute attacks

and… more ladybug hedge stuff

nooo… maysilee

idk… silka’s death feels too lucky to be satisfying. she was standing in that perfect, just right spot + it happened just in time so haymitch wouldn’t bleed out. think i would have liked it better if haymitch had actually killed her

that is so grim, being caged glorified prisoner in that tribute house

this is a nightmare homecoming

well, i want to feel more sad about this but the book kept going on about lenore dove so much she was really just annoying me and she was barely even around doing anything

still tragic though

we can stop with the song now, i get it.

ok, and here’s how haymitch stopped holding it together and finally fell apart

this epilogue is sweet-sad-cute. bittersweet to the core

aw katniss reminding haymitch of louella

i know it’s supposed to be romantic + tragic doomed lovers but reallyyyy haymitch could have moved on + found a new love considering how much time has passed and i wouldn’t have been annoyed by it. i kind of shipped effie and haymitch tbh

~ post ~

idk, with how much snow was dead set on killing haymitch for all his rebelliousness + the fact that they had mutts trained on killing specific tributes, i feel that “realistically” by the book’s standards, snow would have made sure haymitch was killed for sure

but whatever, his survival might feel contrived but i’m glad he did make it

except i wish maysilee survived too

the origins for all the reasons haymitch bonded in his way with katniss were cute stand outs

maysilee was the best. i loved her every line + scene

i still really wanted lenore dove to be lou lou’s replacement as a punishment for haymitch

also just so she could stop being mentioned. or if she had to be mentioned so much, at least it would be because she was actually there doing something on page

thinking back, lenore dove had so much page time compared to her actual physical presence, it did not make me like her. it actually started to make me actively dislike her

this is now a rant bc just her name constantly popping up on every second page and being reminded of what a lovely singing angel she was just made me become irrationally annoyed by her character when she herself really didn’t do anything worthy of being hated except be constantly thought about and mentioned in her perfectness and i started to wish she had been offed in the beginning at the reaping then haymitch would never have had to go to the games

see? she was barely in the actual book and she dominates so much of it + my thoughts and memories about it + i’m irrationally annoyed by that fact?!?! she would have been fine if she had just been mentioned maybe 1/3 of the amount

kind of felt like there was more that could have been done with having lou lou as louella’s replacement - a bigger actual contribution to disrupting the games or a bigger fallout from it afterwards - kind of felt like a sparkler of a plot point that just fizzed out

overall i was invested

and i liked it. enough that i’m still thinking about it. the story actually stands out amongst the books i’ve read

happy with how tragic it was, the story felt messed up just right

this story is going to live in my head for a while now

#sunrise on the reaping #hunger games #haymitch abernathy #haymitch #haymitch x effie #thg #thg haymitch #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #maysilee donner #thg maysilee #lenore dove #thoughts #quotes

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mythrilpencil · 1 month ago

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This is basically like an eventual post-D&D-campaign scene—or at least a scene that could happen post-campaign. I have no idea if it will in our actual canon or not but I wrote it anyways

Word count: 807

Home

———

“Sky, talk to me.”

Sky hesitated by the door, her hair churning. Tristan stood at the other end of the small inn room. He’d barely finished braiding the tail of his wavy blond hair and now had left his shirt with the top buttons undone while he waited for her to speak.

Sky tried, “I…I’m fine, I just need to—”

“Sky, I can smell ozone from here and you’re tenser than a lute string. Visibly,” Tristan countered, lightly crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow for a moment before his expression softened again. “Talk to me,” he urged gently, “What’s wrong?”

Sky clenched her hands into shaking fists, then released them. Then she held her own hand, wringing it like a wet cloth. “Everything’s wrong,” she eventually whispered, “This…I…” She turned slightly, but didn’t dare face him all the way. Her eyes darted at him, but meeting his patient grey eyes threatened to plunge her into an even deeper pool of guilt. So she glanced away. Shakily she started over, “We’ve been…seeing each other for a while now. You even followed me here from the last tavern I helped set up. But…”

Tristan took a small step towards her, and after a moment of heavy silence prompted, “…But?”

Sky released her hands with a sharp sigh. “We can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this.”

“This?” Tristan gestured between the two of them with a frown. “Why not? Did something happen?”

“N-No! I—” Sky met his eyes briefly, then tore away again. He didn’t deserve this. She threw her hands over her head and clutched it with a groan, “It’s just…I’m scared, Tristan. Because I—I just know I’m going to hurt you.” Her voice shrank. “Just like I hurt everyone else. S-so it would be better if you left. For your own sake. I—”

She started to open the door, but Tristan summoned a spectral Mage Hand with a whistle to gently push it back closed. His faint purple magic shimmered with an ethereal chime. Sky watched it twinkle through tears she desperately held back, not daring to look Tristan’s way as he walked over.

“I’m not gonna leave, Sky. What makes you think I will? Or should?”

“Do you remember me talking about Satoru?”

“Your cleric friend from Lyrrha?”

Sky nodded. “When I told him about…about what was at stake in Eidolus…he left. He ran.”

“Didn’t you say he came back eventually?”

“Yeah, eventually, but…he still ran first. I hurt him, by telling him the truth, and he ran.”

“Did your friends run? Your brothers?”

Sky clutched the doorknob tighter, a grieving glaze of frost blooming from her palm across the metal. “No, but they—”

Tristan took another step. “Have you ever hurt any of them? Even with just your lightning?”

“Yeah, but they—”

“Sky.” He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. The only marks on his hand were the calluses from plucking lute strings, but there was still a determined firmness in it as he gently directed her to turn towards him. “I’m not gonna leave you,” he repeated. “I’m not scared about you hurting me. You probably will; you’re more powerful than I could ever dream of being. And I’ll probably hurt you at points; I’m not perfect. No one is. But we’re both trying, and as long as we’re trying together, that’s what counts.”

Sky kept her gaze down, watching frost grow and melt beneath her feet as her heart and mind argued furiously: her mind racing for reasons and excuses to let him go and her heart shutting down every single one.

Tristan remained silent for a moment, then huffed a small laugh. “Did I ever tell you why I traveled around so much, before meeting you?” he asked.

Sky blinked, and glanced up enough to look at his arm. No scars ever marred his fair skin, unlike the innumerable ones that marked hers. She frowned and shook her head.

Tristan tilted his head and mused, “To be honest, I don’t think I realized this until recently. But…I think I was looking for something. I was looking for a muse…and a home.” His voice grew low and soft, barely above a whisper. “And I finally found it.”

“This inn?” Sky frowned.

Gently Tristan lifted Sky’s chin with a finger until their eyes finally met. A soft, longing smile touched his eyes. “You. So please don’t make me lose it.”

Sky’s heart dropped as much as it soared. Fear and hope fought into hot tears…until eventually she let the fear go. She let it melt into the thawing frost at her feet.

Tristan’s eyes danced between Sky’s eyes and her lips, silently asking permission.

And with a tip of her head upwards until her lips met his, she gave it.

———

For this week’s prompt courtesy of @flashfictionfridayofficial!

Tagging: @jacqueswriteblrlibrary

#my writing #flash fiction friday #talk to me #first time writing anything romance #no clue what I’m doing #but I’ve had this scene in my head for a while #wish fulfillment? never heard of her #d&d characters #d&d fic #post-campaign #potentially AU; we’ll see #chaos game #Hunt for the Set Beasts #HftSB #character: sky #character: tristan #romance

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cryscendo · 2 years ago

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kurt hummel in every performance

6x13 - Dreams Come True

Daydream Believer - Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson + schoolchildren

“We are so excited to be here! It is so cool to be in a place where it's safe and okay to be who you are.”

#glee #kurt hummel #my stuff #kurt hummel in every performance #blaine anderson #klaine #song: daydream believer #episode: dreams come true #he’s sooooooo handsome here #they both are #also while i find this scene to be super cute i think it would’ve had a bigger impact if this was like blaine’s classroom or something #bc in the canon that i’ve created in my head blaine became a elementary teacher and kurt works for vogue

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codgod-archive · 1 year ago

Note

hey there! i’m a huge fan of your fic oxygen! i’ve been wondering, are there any specific songs you associate with mumbo and martyn dynamic in the stardew valley au? :)

funnily enough the title comes from a song so. the main Theme is two by sleeping at last [“you can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest” …] i don’t think i’ve ever mentioned that explicitly before because it becomes more prominent in a scene i haven’t written yet but whatever

besides that i’m actually not sure about sdvau specifically? i do have this old general redwood playlist if that’s of any interest. i’d say the songs on there also influence how i write them somewhat :p

#.qna #the scene that ties into the song the most is like half of why i started writing the fic in the first place lol #well okay slight exaggeration #but still i’ve had it in my head for a while

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dahldahlbills · 2 years ago

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nano day 20-25

20- 1952

21- 771

22- 643

23&24- 0 (don’t look at meeee I didn’t have time lol)

25- 2233

Total word count: 32149, 25885 towards main wip (!!!)

I didn’t realize how many days had gone by without updating lol but it’s fine bc it’s not like anyone’s really keeping track

anyway it’s v apparent I’m not hitting the 50k BUT IT’S OKAY! I’ve made peace with it. It was p dumb of me to start the month going “I just wanna write as much as I can” bc obv I was setting myself up for disappointment. So if I’m able to reach just 30k on my main wip, I’ll be happy.

Also patting myself on the back for reaching +25k, I think the 30k will be v feasible with the remaining 5 days. That’s <1k a day!

Also finished the 12th scene! We’re over a third of the way through the project :D (which admittedly is around where I hit my typical story middle slump, but I’m hoping I can remain consistent after November)

#also abt the 50k. I posted a fic too so that’s worth celebrating #I’ve written a lot I’m def not discrediting that #plus those extra 20k words are gonna get written regardless just not within this month it’s fine #I’m expecting this project to be ~75-80k #so there’s gonna be plenty left to do after November anyway #scene 13 is a Big Emotional scene so I hope I don’t flub it up #but I’m excited for it I think it’ll be good. I’ve had ideas for this scene in particular for a while #so its crazy that I’m finally writing it #I def feel like this entire story has been a HOT mess so far #mostly bc these characters have been living in my head for so long that I keep forgetting the gradual progression of their development #I feel like I keep skipping significant moments in their growth bc I’m so used to how they’re /supposed/ to be #but it’s cool. I never expected a lot of this draft to be solid anyway but what matters is that it’s something to work with!!#also feel like it jumps around a lot. like the flow between scenes isn’t entirely clear #and that’s mostly bc I don’t wanna write scene connectors rn lol #but that’s always something I can grumble and groan about later #dahl does nano 23

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inkandapex · 3 months ago

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through the lens — drive to survive moments

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : The cameras may be there for Formula 1, but somehow, they keep capturing them. From playful bickering in the paddock to wholesome moments in McLaren’s garage, from Y/N’s growing fan club to Lando’s exaggerated jealousy, Drive to Survive unknowingly turns their love story into a viral sensation—one chaotic moment at a time.

Words : 3.6k

Warnings : swearing

Friends turned Rivals Lovers

The camera focuses on Lando, settled in the driver’s seat, before shifting to the seat behind him. Just beside the cameraman, Max F is seen scrolling through his phone.

“Max is pouty because he usually sits in the passenger seat,” Lando quips, drawing the camera’s attention back to him. A glimpse of his cheeky grin is visible from his side profile.

Reaching over the passenger seat, Lando rests a hand on her thigh. Max chuckles softly. “Bit more legroom up front.”

The scene cuts to Lando, now sat in a studio. From behind the camera, a voice cuts in. “You’ve been a hot topic this off-season. Any updates you want to share?”

Lando leans back in his chair, fixing his hair as he readies himself for the interview segment of Drive to Survive.

"What makes you say that?" A shy smile creeps onto his face just before the screen transitions to a montage of headlines and social media posts.

"Lando Norris seen kissing mystery girl in his Ferrari" "Lando Norris and mystery girl spotted driving around Monaco" "Mystery girl identified—longtime friend Y/N L/N" "Friends to Lovers? The true identity of McLaren driver Lando Norris'new girlfriend"

Lando nods with a smile. “Y/N and I have been friends for a long time. Finally found the guts to ask her to be mine.”

“Are you the romantic type?”

He chuckles, shrugging. “You’d have to ask her.”

The scene transitions to the paddock, where Lando walks hand-in-hand with Y/N, her bag slung over his arm. Max trails beside them, hands in his pockets. The trio makes their way into McLaren’s hospitality, settling at a free table tucked away in the corner, away from the crowd.

Y/N takes a sip of her smoothie before glancing at Lando. “Excited for today? First practice of the season.”

Lando looks up from his phone, nodding. “Yeah, feeling pretty good. Car felt good during testing—hope it translates well throughout the season.”

“Think he’s more nervous about the fact that you’ll be here watching,” Max teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N laughs softly. “I’ve been to races before, you know.”

“Yeah, but not as his girlfriend. Now he’s got to win for the team and to show off for you.”

“You dick,” Lando chuckles, grabbing a straw wrapper and tossing it at Max, who dodges it with a grin.

Lando glances at his watch, letting out a soft sigh before pushing his chair back. “Alright, I gotta go get ready.”

Max leans back in his chair, nodding. “We’ll be in the garage before you head out.”

Lando grabs Y/N’s bag from the table, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, baby.”

Y/N blinks up at him, confused. “Am I not staying with Max?”

Lando shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. “You could… but I want you with me while I get ready. Your choice.”

Y/N smiles and stands up, slipping her hand into Lando’s. Max groans dramatically. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been benched. I’ve lost my WAG status.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Air Max

Lando holds up his phone, the camera capturing the view outside Max Verstappen’s private plane. His team had arranged with Drive to Survive to give Netflix a small peek into his life outside the paddock. Now, he’s tasked with filming parts of his day—something he’s getting used to but still isn’t entirely comfortable with.

The camera shifts, panning around the cabin before zooming in on Max and his girlfriend, who sit across from each other, faces buried in their phones.

“Look at these two… they’ve been like this since we took off,” Lando murmurs, walking closer while keeping the camera focused on them. He tilts the screen toward their hands, revealing the game they’re both locked into—a racing simulator. Neither of them spares him a glance.

“We asked you to join, mate,” Max chuckles without looking up.

Lando plops down beside Y/N, setting the camera down at an angle that captures all three of them. He starts poking her cheek, then her side, trying to get her attention.

“Lan. I swear, if I lose—”

“—Of course you will. You’re racing against Max.”

“She’s actually pretty good, you know,” Max chimes in, eyes still glued to his phone.

Before Lando can tease again, Y/N suddenly shrieks, making him flinch. She drops her phone onto the table, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic groan of defeat.

“What did I say, baby?” Lando laughs, nudging her shoulder.

But Y/N is already sitting back up, snatching her phone with urgency. “One more, Max. Come on, let’s go. This is the one—I can feel it.”

Lando groans, throwing his head back. “Y/N, baby, please. Let’s watch a movie, take a nap, something.”

“In a bit, Lan, I need to beat Max.”

Max smirks, finally looking up at Lando with a teasing glint in his eye. “Sorry, mate. I win.”

"We're flying commercial next time"

--------------------------------------------------------

I'm just here for the coffee

The Drive to Survive camera crew catches up with Lando as he wraps up media duties alongside Oscar in McLaren hospitality. He’s distracted—eyes constantly scanning the room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen as he checks it every few seconds. His expression shifts between mild frustration and confusion.

Just as he exhales sharply, about to shove his phone into his pocket, a familiar voice calls out.

"Lando!"

Max F calls out, relief on his face as he finally spots his friend sitting by the doors. Lando strides towards him, but before he can even greet them, Max speaks again.

"Oh, I thought Y/N would be with you. I've been trying to reach her for hours now."

Lando’s brows furrow, holding up his phone.

"I’ve been trying to call her too. I thought she was with you."

The realization hits him like a switch flipping. His expression drops into something between disbelief and sheer irritation. He exhales, shakes his head, and lets out a knowing scoff.

"I might know where she is."

Cue the most dramatic yet comedic smash cut imaginable.

Ferrari Hospitality – Where Y/N Has Been the Entire Time.

The camera immediately cuts to Y/N, relaxed and unbothered, seated at a table inside Ferrari hospitality. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter as they sip espresso, surrounded by Carlos, Charles, and their girlfriends. The Ferrari logo gleams proudly in the background, almost mocking.

Y/N leans forward, grinning at something Carlos just said, stirring their coffee absentmindedly. Charles adds a comment that earns another round of laughter. It’s the picture of comfort—warm, inviting, and clearly where Y/N has been all along.

Then, in the background, the doors swing open.

The camera follows Lando as he steps inside, expression unreadable—until the dramatic zoom-in captures the very moment.

"Unbelievable."

Lando’s voice cuts through the laughter, making the entire table turn their heads toward him. The easygoing chatter dies down as he strides over, hands on his hips, phone still clutched in one hand. His brows are furrowed—confused, mildly exasperated, and very much not amused.

"Baby, Max and I have been calling you."

Y/N blinks before reaching into their bag, finally checking their phone. The screen lights up with multiple missed calls. A sheepish smile tugs at their lips as they glance back up at Lando.

"Oops? Sorry, Lan. I had my ringer off."

Charles smirks, leaning back in his chair. "She’s been having a great time with us, mate."

Lando squints at him before turning back to Y/N. "How long have you been here?"

Before Y/N can even open their mouth, Carlos chimes in.

"Actually, quite late today. She came an hour later than usual."

Lando blinks. Processes. "Later than usual?" His gaze snaps back to Y/N, his confusion shifting into shock. "How often are you here?!"

Y/N, fully caught now, shrugs, setting their coffee down.

"I mean… almost every media day? You’re busy filming, and their coffee is really good here so I just—"

Lando groans, rubbing his face. "Oh baby…"

Before he can spiral further, Rebecca—clearly enjoying the moment—leans in with a grin. "Show Lando what Carlos and Charles gave you!"

Y/N shoots her a betrayed side-eye, but it’s too late. Lando’s eyes widen slightly as he looks between them. He nods at Y/N, expectantly.

Y/N sighs, reaching back into their bag. With hesitant hands, they pull out a very red Ferrari cap and place it on the table.

Silence.

Lando stares.

Alex, grinning, decides to throw more fuel into the fire. "You could’ve at least signed it for her."

"Oh shit—yeah." Charles grabs the cap, immediately patting down his pockets for a pen. He looks around helplessly before turning to Lando.

"Do you have a Sharpie?"

Lando blinks. His eye twitches.

"Do I—" He stops himself, inhales deeply, then exhales, running a hand down his face.

"Okay. We’re leaving. Come on."

Y/N barely has time to protest before Lando takes their hand and starts walking. "But— baby no my coffee..."

"I'll get you your own coffee machine"

--------------------------------------------------------

A victory in full bloom

It’s the moment Lando’s been dreaming of his entire career: his first-ever Formula 1 race win. The podium ceremony is over, and he’s just wrapped up celebrating with his team, taking photos and soaking in the victory. The Netflix crew trails him closely, hoping to catch a quick statement from the new race winner. But Lando’s not focused on the cameras or interviews—his mind is set on finding someone. He’s been eager to celebrate with Y/N.

As he walks towards the trailers, his eyes scan the area until they land on her. There she is, standing by his trailer with a small bouquet of flowers in hand. Lando stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his chest for a moment. A wide smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of her, the bouquet a simple yet perfect gesture for this milestone moment.

Y/N looks up and meets his gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It’s clear she’s been waiting for him. "Hey champ"

Lando’s eyes light up when he sees them, his smile growing even wider. He’s still buzzing from the excitement of the win, but this moment feels different—more personal.

Lando is grinning from ear to ear "What’s this? For me?"

Y/N shyly holds the bouquet out towards him, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah... It's not the best, but it's the only one I could get my hands on at such short notice."

Lando doesn’t hesitate for a second. He sets his trophy down on the ground, his attention entirely on the flowers in her hands. He takes the bouquet from her gently, inspecting it with a look of pure joy on his face. The smile never leaves as he admires the thoughtful gesture.

Y/N flinches slightly when she hears the clink of the trophy being set down. “Oh, Lan, don’t just leave it on the floor—”

Before she can even move to pick it up, Lando pulls her into a tight, elated hug, careful not to crush the flowers between them.

“These are beautiful, my love. Thank you,” he whispers against her ear, his voice full of affection. “God, I love you. You’re the best, you know that, right?”

Y/N, caught in the warmth of the moment, smiles softly, her heart racing. Lando’s arms around her feel like the perfect celebration of everything they’ve worked for together.

"I'm so proud of you, Lan, my race winner," Y/N says softly, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lando lets out a quiet laugh, glancing over her shoulder and catching sight of one of the camera crew members standing off to the side, clearly eager to capture the intimate moment. His smile widens, but then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he pulls away from her and takes her hand firmly in his.

"Alright, you vultures," he calls out playfully to the crew, his tone teasing as he begins to walk away with Y/N in tow. "Go film someone else now."

Lando walks off, his stride confident and relaxed, one hand holding the bouquet Y/N gave him, the other wrapped around her hand. His focus is entirely on her as they move down the paddock together, the world around them momentarily fading away.

"Lando the trophy!"

--------------------------------------------------------

Fan Favourite

The cameras follow Lando and Y/N as they stroll hand in hand through the paddock, stopping every few meters to greet excited fans. It’s a typical moment for them, with Lando taking his time to chat and take photos with the crowd, but today, there’s a certain energy in the air that the fans—especially the ones around them—seem to feed off of.

Y/N stands to the side, watching with a smile as Lando interacts with a group of young fans. One fan, in particular, catches his attention. She’s holding a small, handmade friendship bracelet, her hands slightly trembling with excitement.

Lando’s smile widens as he notices the bracelet. He looks at the fan and gestures toward it with a raised eyebrow, "That’s really pretty. Is that for me?"

The fan's eyes go wide, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to form words. Finally, she manages a shy reply, "Oh, uh... actually, it’s for Y/N. If you could give it to her, please?"

Lando lets out a lighthearted laugh, realizing his mistake, a blush creeping up his neck. He turns over his shoulder, calling out to Y/N with a playful tone, "Love, c’mere. They wanna say hi."

Y/N steps forward, smiling warmly as she walks towards them. But before she even gets close, a few of the girls in the group let out high-pitched squeals, and Lando, hearing the reaction, pauses mid-step. He turns around to face the group, his jaw dropping in mock surprise. “Right, calm down,” he teases, raising an eyebrow. "It's almost like you're more excited to meet her than me!"

The fans giggle, some blushing, while Y/N smiles with a soft laugh, taking the bracelet from the fan’s outstretched hand. Lando, now with a playful smirk, shakes his head, clearly enjoying the teasing moment.

Y/N immediately slips the bracelet onto her wrist, admiring it with a bright smile. “This is so pretty! Thank you so much, you guys are the sweetest.”

Before she can say anything else, another fan eagerly steps forward, holding out a small crocheted cat dressed in what looks suspiciously like Lando’s helmet.

“I got you this as well!” the fan beams.

Y/N gasps, carefully taking the little plushie into her hands. “Oh my gosh! Is this supposed to be Lando?” She turns it over, inspecting the tiny details, from the pattern of the helmet to the little number on its side. “This is adorable—you guys…” Her voice softens, and she clutches the cat close to her chest, looking at the group with a touched expression, lips forming a small pout.

Lando, standing off to the side, watches with a fond smile, his heart swelling as he sees how naturally she interacts with his fans. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until Y/N turns to him, stretching out her arm with her phone in hand.

“Lan, baby, take a photo of us, please?”

Lando blinks, snapping out of his daze. He lets out a chuckle before taking the phone from her hand. “Yeah, yeah—sorry, got a bit distracted there.”

After snapping a few more photos and sharing a couple more laughs, Y/N and Lando exchanged their final goodbyes with the fans before continuing their stroll toward the McLaren garage.

Y/N glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist, still admiring the thoughtful gift, while Lando walked beside her, hands in his pockets, a playful pout forming on his lips.

"Can't believe I gotta share my girlfriend with my fans now," he muttered dramatically, shaking his head.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, bumping her shoulder against his. "Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t love it," she teased.

Lando sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I mean, I was the main attraction. Now they’re out here squealing over you and giving you gifts." He shot her a look, but the corners of his lips twitched, betraying his amusement.

Y/N smirked, holding up the tiny crocheted cat. "Jealous?"

Lando scoffed, but his eyes flickered down to the plushie, and he hummed in fake thought. “Depends... do I get one in return?”

Y/N grinned. "Maybe if you win the race this weekend."

Lando groaned, tilting his head back. “So now I have to earn your love? This is outrageous.”

Y/N just giggled, slipping her hand into his, swinging it slightly as they walked. “You love the challenge, Norris.”

He sighed, squeezing her hand. “Yeah... yeah, I do.”

--------------------------------------------------------

P's new favourite

Lando’s relationship with Max Verstappen’s stepdaughter, Penelope, had always been a good one. Between race weekends and off-season meetups in Monaco, he saw her often, and they had their own little bond.

But ever since he started dating Y/N, it seemed like P had a new favorite.

Just before heading to the garage, Lando stood outside McLaren hospitality, casually chatting with his mom, a few friends, Kelly, and P—who, instead of paying attention to the conversation, was entirely focused on showing Lando her collection of stickers.

Lando’s smile softens as he looks down at the little girl, carefully pressing the sticker onto his fireproofs. “For me?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Thank you, P.”

“Bye, Lando!” P grins, bouncing on her heels before giving him a high five, which quickly turns into a hug.

Lando barely has time to wrap his arms around her before she suddenly gasps dramatically, pulling away as fast as she had latched onto him. Without a second thought, she bolts in the opposite direction.

“Y/N!”

The camera follows her path, cutting to Y/N just as she arrives. A wide smile spreads across her face as she kneels down, arms open and ready for impact.

P barrels straight into her, nearly knocking her over as she wraps her tiny arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

Y/N lets out a small laugh, steadying herself. “Hi, P! I love your hair—you look so pretty!”

P quickly pulls back, twirling proudly to show off her outfit. “Lando said he liked my hair too!” she exclaims.

Y/N gasps, playing along. “Well, if Lando said it, then it must be true.”

P giggles before Y/N takes her small hands in hers. “Alright, come on then, let’s go say goodbye to Lando.”

As they make their way back toward the group, Kelly watches them with a knowing smile. “She literally pulled away from Lando’s hug just to run to you,” she muses, shaking her head with amusement.

Lando lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms. “Yeah, my family does the same thing when I bring her home with me.”

Cisca, who had been standing off to the side, bursts into laughter, nodding in agreement. “It’s true.”

“Hi, baby. I’m about to head off. I’ll see you after,” Lando murmurs, stepping in close to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips before pulling her into a tight hug.

Before Y/N can even melt into the embrace, a small but determined voice interrupts.

“Okay, bye now, Lando.”

P, eyes set with purpose, marches forward and starts pushing Lando away with her tiny hands.

Lando lets out a laugh, barely stumbling back before crossing his arms over his chest. “Excuse me? Am I not even allowed to kiss my girlfriend goodbye now?”

“She’s mine!” P announces proudly, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a possessive hug.

Y/N laughs, running a gentle hand over the little girl’s head. “Alright, missy, I think Lando gets the message loud and clear.” She glances at Lando with a teasing smile before blowing him a kiss. “I’ll see you later, my love. Good luck and be safe.”

Lando sneaks in a quick peck to her cheek before jogging off, grinning. “I’ll be back to take my girlfriend back, P! Watch over her for me!”

5K notes · View notes

smileysuh · 2 months ago

Text

eat it

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pussy eating, foreplay, face grinding, dry humping, breast worship, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, using sex as inspiration to study, no nut november, blue balls, dirty talk, praise, multiple little sex scenes, big dick Jaehyun, slight phone sex, mentions of masturbation, teasing, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.5k

🍭 aus. Uni au, fuck buddies to lovers, no nut november, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Short but sweet :) was missing Jae

One:

Jaehyun can tell something is off with you, and despite you being someone he holds at a distance with the label ‘fuck buddy,’ he actually cares about what’s going on in your head, especially when it’s clearly taking away from your enjoyment of him.

He’s not the type to bring something up mid fuck session, but when you both finish, he takes the opportunity to address it.

“You seemed distant today,” he notes.

You release a deep sigh. “November is coming up, I’ve got three big tests and then finals in December, and I’m just… I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

The two of you had decided to keep a purely physical relationship with the idea of focusing on school. You both feel as if you’re too busy with your studies to put as much effort into dating as you’d like, so you’d come to an agreement to fuck whenever you’re both needing it, and keep other things as surface-level as possible.

Despite this arrangement, Jaehyun knows he would be the biggest asshole ever if he didn’t act as at least a friend to you. He has massive emotional walls that he keeps fortified, but there’s no harm in checking in with you. Besides, stress relief is a cornerstone of your relationship, and if his cock couldn’t dristract you from the issues in your life right now, maybe being an avid listener can.

“What class?” he enquires.

“Fucking physics,” you groan, falling back against your bed and covering your face with a pillow.

There’s a reason Jaehyun had chosen Marine Biology instead of a more mathematics-based science when he got to university. Hell, the intro to physics class in first year had nearly killed him, so he understands where you’re coming from.

“Well…” Jaehyun swallows thickly. “My frat is doing the whole ‘No Nut November’ bullshit, and we both know I don’t like to lose… but just because I can’t fuck you to destress you, doesn’t mean I can’t eat you out and make you cum as a reward for doing well in classes.”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

You stare at him, the cogs of your mind working clearly behind your inquisitive eyes. “What if we agree on an above eighty average instead of eighty-six?”

“Nah, has to be eighty-six, what kind of floozy do you think I am?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Uh… the kind that just dicked me down without me needing an eighty-six average?”

Two:

It’s November, and while the idea of using Jaehyun as encouragement to study had seemed like a good plan to begin with, you find yourself distracted by the notion of him. Numbers and calculations give way to thoughts about the frat boy studying marine biology, and after struggling with it for an hour, you give yourself a breather to unpack everything.

You and Jaehyun have had an on-again off-again fuck buddy relationship for a little over a year now, and in that period, you’ve fucked only a handful times. With Jaehyun, things are strictly business. There’s not much foreplay, not much chit-chatting- it’s entirely about you both getting your rocks off as stress relief, then going your separate ways.

There’s a part of you that’s always thought extensive foreplay is less of a fuck buddy type of deal, and more of a budding relationship experience, which is why it’s generally been off-limits.

Having a man’s dick in you is one thing, having his mouth on your pussy while he’s neglected, looking up at you and doing his best to make you cum without any pleasure for himself- well, that’s something else entirely.

Neither you nor Jaehyun like to be selfish in this arrangement you have, it’s always a mutually beneficial interaction.

But… if you let him eat you out for doing well in physics… if he doesn’t get to cum or be touched at all… then that’s you being selfish, and the flip side is, he’s being selfless with you.

Selfless has never been a word you connect to the idea of fuck buddies- and sure, some men love eating out women, some men get super turned on from that, but… you worry you’ll just be blue-ballsing the poor man.

You never want to blue-ball Jaehyun. Despite your relationship being surface level - except for when he’s buried in your guts - you care about him. And you think it’s this care that has made you put up walls.

You’d agreed when you’d met that neither of you wanted a relationship. You wanted easy sex when it was convenient to you both. No strings attached, no emotions, no foreplay- although, that last caveat was never something verbally agreed to or discussed, moreso of an offshoot of the entire arrangement.

In an odd way, letting Jaehyun eat you out while he gets nothing in return will be a new stepping stone for your dynamic, and you’re not quite sure where the path it creates might lead.

Three:

You open your door with a grin, holding your most recent test in your hand. Before you can even tell Jaehyun the good news about your eighty-six percent - on the dot, mind you - score, he’s grabbing you and pressing his lips to yours.

A laugh tumbles out of you as you drag him into your apartment, kissing him back eagerly while the door shuts.

He feels so good, and your body immediately reacts to him, your nipples pushing up against the fabric of your thin night shirt. Jaehyun notices, because his hand comes up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing against the bud and making you moan.

When his lips move to your throat, you take the opportunity to speak. “You don’t even know what score I got on my test.”

“You wouldn’t have called me over if you didn’t get an eighty-six or above,” he notes, breath hot against your neck as he licks at your sweet spot.

“What if I brought you here to beg, to plead for that eighty average to be acceptable?” you tease.

“Begging is really not your style,” he insists, his hands moving down to your sleeping shorts to roughly tug them down.

“Looks like I won’t have to beg for this, though.”

“A deal is a deal,” Jaehyun tells you in the most earnest tone, and it makes you giggle.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.”

“No, I’m eating you out here.”

A moment later, he’s lifting you, setting you onto your kitchen island. The cold surface feels good against your hot skin, and it’s hard to breathe properly as Jaehyun pushes your thighs open.

“Lay down,” he instructs, “and let me give you your reward.”

Four:

“So… This time, I got a ninety,” you tell Jaehyun, holding your phone close to your chest so he can hear you clearly as you meander around your apartment.

“Well, look at you go.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and it has your body tingling with excitement. “When can you come over?”

“Just finishing up a few things,” Jaehyun explains. “How about nineish?”

“But that’s a whole four hours away!” you groan.

“Somebody is eager.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I was sitting in class and taking the test and all I could think about was your mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Was getting so wet while doing fucking physics calculations- thinking about your tongue, and the way you hold me down when I cum. You’re a guy who just knows how to eat it, and it’s kind of making me go crazy.”

“Did I mention I’m at the gym right now?” Jaehyun asks, releasing a choked cough.

You grin, moving to sit on your couch. “Gonna sport a stiffy while doing bench presses, Jae?”

“Pretty close to that, yeah.”

“All I’m saying is- you could be a great tutor, if you gave out sexual favours to all the cute girls who need help.”

Jaehyun laughs. “I feel like that would put me on a career trajectory that has nothing to do with marine biology, and I’m not spending all this money every year just to not use my degree.”

“True, true,” you sigh. “Anyways, I guess I’ll be waiting to see you at nineish.”

“Try not to touch yourself before I get there,” Jaehyun warns. “Or it defeats the purpose.”

Five:

You’d been shocked to discover upon receiving your third test back, that you had somehow managed to score the highest in the entire class. And now, you’re even more shocked to find that Jaehyun has a few cunnilingus tricks up his sleeve that he hadn’t shown you in your first two strictly oral encounters.

His face is buried between your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit while his fingers are pumping into your wet core. He angles his digits upward, crooking them in a way that has your whole body tingling-

He’d told you he wanted to make you squirt, you know, as a real celebration after your high marks, and at first, you hadn’t quite believed it would happen.

You’ve never squirted, and no man has ever taken the time to work that sort of thing out of you-

Yet here you are, feeling the first few dribbles splooshing out of your core and onto Jaehyun’s fingers.

It’s an intense pressure, but a completely welcomed one, and it makes your entire body tense with pleasure as he continued to finger fuck wetness out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit.

The sounds you’re making are obscene, but you can’t help yourself, can’t bring yourself to care about noise complaints or people hearing you-

You deserve this after scoring so well on your physics test, and you’ll be damned if you tell Jaehyun to stop or slow down.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans, pulling away from your clit to look down at you. “That’s it, baby, let it out.”

God, his dirty talk? It’s gotten better- or maybe you were both just not very verbal before, maybe when things were strictly business you were both holding back a lot of talents in the sexual scheme of things.

You release a whimper, more squirt gushing out of you and onto his hand.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Jaehyun tells you, his mouth returning to your clit.

The past few times, losing yourself to him eating you out had been easy- but this time, you’re aware that finals are looming on the horizon. You’re not going to see Jaehyun for a couple of weeks, and after pleasure like this, you’re not sure you have the patience to wait that long.

You’re also keenly aware that this will be the third time Jaehyun leaves your house with blue-balls, and while he doesn’t make a big deal about it, you still feel bad.

This whole thing has definitely gotten more complicated, and you have the sneaking suspicion that when finals are over, and you finally get to fuck- they’re going to get a whole lot more confusing.

Six:

Jaehyun is about four hours into studying for his marine biology final when your ringtone sounds through his room.

He releases a groan, because sure, you’re a welcome distraction- but the mere thought of you is enough to give him a half chub and about two hours of distracted thoughts.

“Hey,” he sighs, answering his phone and putting it on speaker next to his text book.

“Hey,” you respond. “Studying?”

“Yup, you?”

“Trying to study,” you release a deep breath. “So… No Nut November has been over for a couple of days, how are you feeling?”

Jaehyun groans, putting his head in his hands. “Like I’m about to bust.”

“So come over?”

Jaehyun’s gaze turns to his phone. The temptation is overwhelming- and he can almost imagine how good your wet pussy is going to feel around his cock- how big his load is going to be when he buries it deep inside of you-

“We both know I can’t do that,” he sighs.

“Why not?”

“I told you, I’m not a floozy.” Jaehyun can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at his own words. He kind of enjoys this whole teasing game of not being the guy who puts out unless you do well on tests. He also kind of enjoys it when you release an irritated sigh.

“Be serious,” you insist.

“In all seriousness,” Jaehyun says. “We both know we can’t see each other until after our finals in three days.”

“But three days is so long away! That’s like seventy-two hours from now!”

“You’re not going to be awake for all seventy-two of those hours though,” Jaehyun grins.

A grumble escapes you. “You know what I mean.”

Jaehyun can feel his cock beginning to rise in his pants, and he knows he has to cut this call short-

“Well, if you’re not going to come be my stress relief, maybe I’ll have to do it myself,” you tell him.

“Huh?”

“I’m rubbing my clit right now, and you wouldn’t believe how fucking wet I am for you. Been thinking about you for hours.”

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans.

“It would be an awful shame if you didn’t come and fuck me stupid.”

“I’ve got to go,” the marine biology major says, and it takes every ounce of his determination for the words to leave his lips.

“For a frat boy, you can be such a prude, Jaehyun.”

“I’m just focusing on something we both agreed a year ago. We both said school comes first. We both said grades above sex, and I’m just keeping us both in line with that intention.”

“I’ll try not to be too upset about this, because you’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” you sigh. “Good luck studying, I’ll see you in seventy-two hours.”

You hang up, and Jaehyun lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

He looks down at his rock hard cock, which is pressing up against the fabric of his sweat pants, and with one last surge of determination, he goes back to his text book.

Seven:

You finished your final two hours ago, and you’re now just laying on your couch. Your mind is pretty much blank, your body exhausted- and that’s when there’s a knock on your door.

You release a groan, forcing yourself to your feet.

While you know you’re going to see Jaehyun sometime soon, you definitely don’t expect him to be on your doorstep, and you’re at a loss for words as you stare at him.

“How bad was your final, baby, you’ve got a whole ‘thousand yard stare’ going on,” Jaehyun grins.

“You’re here,” you force out, so shocked that you still don’t know what to say.

“I’m here, and even though your final is done, it looks like you need stress relief.”

A tingle rushes through you, and you nod eagerly, pushing your door open wider so he can enter your apartment.

“How- how was your final?” you ask.

“Wasn’t so bad,” he shrugs, “And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying marine biology is easy, but it’s not physics.”

“Jae?”

“Uh huh?”

“I’m so exhausted.” The words come out of your mouth and you break a little, your shoulders slumping. “I won’t have results for a couple of weeks and I don’t know if I did well, and I know you have this whole, ‘I’m not a floozy’ running joke thing-”

“Baby, I’m here to fuck you, don’t worry about getting an eighty-six percent, I’m taking care of you right now even if you failed. Do you think you failed?”

“I don’t think so-”

“And you were highest in your whole class on the last test, so let out a breath, shake off the anxiety, and for the first time in two months, let’s just enjoy fucking, okay?”

“Okay.”

You let Jaehyun grab your hand and he leads you to your bedroom. Once there, he begins to kiss you. He cradles you against his chest, and it’s the most passionate lip lock you’ve ever shared with the marine biology major.

His hands stroke your body, and it’s not some quick tearing off of clothes- no, this time, it’s clear he wants to go slow.

You stroke his muscles, massaging his shoulders through the heavy fabric of his hoodie. The motion makes Jaehyun groan, and he removes the layer, tossing it onto the floor before wrapping you in his arms again.

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, and he slowly guides you to your bed. He lays you down before getting on top of you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, and you groan at the first amount of pressure on your sleeping short covered core.

The kiss deepens, but it’s not the kind of erratic and eager lip lock, it’s calculated, passionate, and in a way- loving.

Jaehyun cares about you, of that, you are certain. He cares enough to make this experience an act of worship, of self care, to balance out the absolute shit show that was your physics final, and you really appreciate the attention to detail that he’s putting into this.

His hand slips under your shirt, toying with your breast.

You’d been planning on having a nap, so you’re only wearing a shirt and shorts, no underwear or bra, and the sensation of his fingers playing with your nipple is the most relief you’ve had in a week.

You whimper, breaking the kiss to wiggle under him, hoping for more pressure on your pussy.

Jaehyun’s lips move to your throat. “Proud of you,” he whispers. “I’m sure you did well today.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you can do is moan in response, your brain too fried from your exam to think of words.

“Gonna get you naked,” Jaehyun tells you next. “You good with that?”

“Yes, please.”

Jaehyun pulls away, adjusting so he can slip your shorts off. You work on your shirt, and in moments, you’re naked for him. Then, Jaehyun begins to strip, joining you in nudity before getting onto the bed again.

His lips find yours, and his hand slips between your thighs. His fingers tease your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

If this was Jaehyun from three months ago, his cock would already be inside of you, and you’re reminded again that a November full of foreplay has changed your relationship. He’s more caring with you now, and you kind of love it, especially after the day you’ve had.

His digits slip into your pussy, working you open, and his palm continues to put the right amount of pressure on your clit.

His mouth moves to your throat, giving you space to moan and fill the room with sounds of pleasure.

He begins to do the motion he did when he made you squirt, and soon, that pressure in your abdomen is reaching a breaking point. You can feel the small gush as it wets your inner thighs, pleasure consuming you with the release.

Jaehyun descends to your breasts, sucking on your nipple gently before continuing to kiss down- he gets all the way to your pussy, and he pulls out his fingers in favour of licking your slit.

You whimper desperately as he takes position between your thighs, hands massaging the muscles there and keeping you pinned as he eats you out.

When you look down, you notice his eyes are closed. He’s fully immersed in the act of pleasuring you, and it makes everything feel better.

You give in to the sensation, mind going blank, body going numb except for the feeling of intense pressure that’s beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

His lips suction around your clit, tongue flicking the sensitive bud, and your own hips begin to wiggle. You’re grinding down against his face, breathing hard as your orgasm becomes closer and closer-

There’s a difference between squirting and a clit orgasm, and while squirting had felt really good, this is about to feel even better.

You try not to put pressure on yourself, and that’s something you’ve learned this past month with Jaehyun.

He could stay between your thighs for half an hour and not get upset that you haven’t cum yet- however, you know it won’t take that long.

You give in to the feelings in your body, focusing on the pleasure as it builds and builds-

“Jae,” you whimper. “I’m close!”

He growls against your clit, sucking even harder, and that’s when you explode.

You release a gasp, the tension in your abdomen snapping as your clit begins to throb, sending delicious pleasure surging through your entire form.

Your thighs threaten to close around Jaehyun’s head but he holds you steady, working you through your orgasm.

The feeling of his tongue on your core isn’t one you ever want to give up, and Jaehyun’s the type of man who doesn’t like to lose- no, he continues to eat you out until you’re finished, until you’re pushing at his head, begging for his cock.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper. “I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, baby,” he nods, swallowing thickly as he adjusts on the bed, getting between your thighs again.

He looks down at you as he positions the head of his cock against your pussy.

There’s a wordless agreement between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Jaehyun slowly pushes into you.

You gasp loudly at the stretch, grabbing at his shoulders to steady yourself.

Nothing but fingers have been inside of you for a month, and the stretch is perfect as Jaehyun’s large cock fills up your core.

“Good?” Jaehyun asks with a grin.

“So good!”

His lips find your throat, and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you grip his shoulders even tighter.

Nothing has ever felt this intimate. You’re clinging to Jaehyun like a life line, your hearts trying to push through your pressed ribcages to meet, as if they were always meant to be one.

There are a thousand emotions bubbling up inside of you, but none of them can be vocalized, all you can do is pant in his ear as he lavishes on you, taking away all your stress.

He begins to fuck you, starting slow as your body adjusts. You can hear him groaning as he licks your sweet spot, the muscles of his shoulders tensing with effort as he holds himself over you.

You get the sneaking suspicion that he’s very much holding back- that this slow build up is torture for the man who hasn’t gotten his cock wet in over a month.

“Let go, Jae,” you whisper, stroking his hair. “Fuck me stupid, you promised you would.”

Jaehyun releases a groan, pulling away from your throat to look down at you. “After all of this, we need to talk.”

“Huh?” your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s nothing bad,” he’s quick to assure you, obviously having read your scared expression. “Just, fuck- look, I’ve been thinking- this month has proven we can get good marks and also be fucking, be more than fucking- and I just- I was thinking maybe we could try actually dating, if you wanted.”

“Jae-” your voice cracks.

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Let’s do it,” you nod. “I want to try that with you.”

“Thank god.” You can practically see the relief in the way he exhales, and then he presses his lips to yours, beginning to fuck you even harder.

You wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he rails you. Your whole bed is shaking with each powerful thrust, and the pleasure of his cock inside of you mixes with the emotional ecstasy that had been triggered by the notion of dating.

You seriously feel like you’re on cloud nine, and it’s such a massive contrast to how you’d felt even an hour ago.

This man can change your entire mood, and you kind of love that. All your stress has melted away, because of his targeted effort to lift you back onto your feet after such a devastating final exam.

He cares about you, you can feel it in the way his hips move, the way his lips caress your own. You can even hear it in his deep groans, all his inhibitions going out the window as he gives himself to you completely.

There’s also something to be said about fucking missionary.

When you’d first had sex, you’d done it doggy, not wanting to be staring at each other, not wanting to feel too emotionally connected as you looked into each other’s eyes-

So much has changed in the best possible way, the two of you pressed chest to chest, pressed so tight it’s as if you want to consume each other.

You’re connected, like puzzle pieces, and each thrust has Jaehyun hitting a spot deep inside of you that makes you feel so completely whole.

You’re both gasping into your kisses now, the tension rising by the second-

“Fuck, I haven’t cum in so long-” Jaehyun groans, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours.

“Then fill me up, Jae,” you whimper, stroking his hair and strong shoulders. “Give me all of it.”

“Fuck.”

“I want this,” you tell him. “I want you so bad.”

He lets out a shuddery breath, and then he kisses you, grunting deeply- the last three thrusts are powerful yet erratic, and his entire body shivers as he falls over the edge. You can feel him filling you up, shooting rope upon rope of cum deep into your core.

Your legs wrap tightly around his hips, keeping him buried to the hilt inside of you, and you press kisses along his face, stroking his hair.

His orgasm lasts five or so seconds, and you can tell from the tension in his muscles that it’s an intense one. He all but slumps over you when he finishes, breathing hard against your skin as he buries his face by your throat.

“Fuck.”

“You can say that again,” you laugh.

Usually, when Jaehyun and you finish up having sex, he immediately goes home and you go to shower, but today, you hold him close, keeping him wrapped in your embrace.

Neither of you say anything as you wait for your hearts to slow down, and you continue to press little kisses along his skin.

“How about we shower then cuddle and watch a movie?” you ask.

“Baby,” Jaehyun releases a small chuckle, “I would love that more than anything.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading!

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🔮 preview. “This is how you inspired me to study when we first started dating,” you point out. “Encourage yourself with pussy. Get some good sucking now, fuck me stupid, and then, use that as fuel to get your studying done.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, masturbation, use of toy/vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, sucking Jae off while he studies, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, rough sex, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 110

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

You can tell that Jaehyun is struggling. His end of the year final is coming up, and he’s as anxious as you’ve ever seen him.

You’ve done your best to support him with studying, but after everything you’ve learned at the start of your relationship last year, you think you might just know the best way to help him focus.

“Jae?” you call, looking at your boyfriend as he studies at the table by your bed. “How’s it coming along?”

He releases a deep sigh. “Not great.”

You approach him, resting against the table. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Probably not,” he groans.

“Are you sure about that?”

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#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct #nct smut #nct jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun nct smut #nct jaehyun smut #nct 127 #jeong jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct 127 smut

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catchastarorten · 5 months ago

Text

—License and registration, please.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Did you pass the speed limit? No. Did Jun-ho pull you over anyways to steal a few moments (and kisses) with you? Yes.

Content: fluff, shared kisses, a girl flirting with him but Jun-ho being very loyal, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

The air was cool that afternoon, sunlight glinting off the windshields of passing cars. Traffic duty wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady, and after everything Jun-ho had endured chasing shadows and secrets, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind the transfer. It gave him time to breathe. To be with you.

A motorcycle driving into sight caught his eyes, bringing him out of his thoughts. A man carrying a girl on the back, helmet-less.

Jun-ho approached the two as the motorcycle came to a stop, his partner—a younger, less experienced officer trailed after him.

“You’re not wearing a helmet. Your license, please.” he took out a small tablet as the man cursed, eyes full of impatience and annoyance.

“Isn’t this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?” the man scoffed.

“Your license, please.” Jun-ho ignored him and extended a hand out, waiting.

The man handed over his license begrudgingly as the girl sitting behind him on the motorcycle hopped down, giving the man a reassuring pat as if saying, “I’ve got this,” before coming closer to Jun-ho.

“Look, can’t you just let us go? I’m wearing one.” she gestured to her own helmet, giving it a steady pat.

“No, ma’am.”

The girl frowned, but took a second look at him and her eyes sparkled, peering at him. “Hey, you’re really handsome!” her voice tuned into a higher pitch at her excitement, as if she found some treasure.

“I could charge you with obstruction.” Jun-ho said dryly, checking the information on the small tablet in his hand.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the girl smiled wider, taking out her phone. She snapped a few pictures, striking different poses as Jun-ho tried to avoid the camera, his head ducked low as he scanned over the information shown on the tablet. The man on the motorcycle narrowed his eyes at the sight.

As the ticket printed out from a machine strapped to Jun-ho’s vest, the girl patted his shoulder. “Come on, get in here!” she leaned closer, but he stepped away to maintain a good distance, before walking over to the man.

Jun-ho handed the ticket to the guy. “The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time.”

The man snatched the ticket away as the girl continued fawning.

“What’s your number? Are you single?” she squealed.

Jun-ho blinked, momentarily taken aback, before he smirked softly and raised his hand, the band on his finger glinting in the sunlight. “Happily married,” he said simply, his voice warm.

The girl’s excitement evaporated, replaced by a pout. “Seriously? Who’s the lucky woman?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer, instead he walked back to the squad car.

The man drove off on his motorcycle, a bitterness clinging onto him. The girl was startled and chased after the guy, shouting and exclaiming and throwing her helmet at him but missing while trying to catch up, her loud curses disappearing into the distance along with the motorcycle.

Jun-ho watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, shaking his head before getting back into the squad car. His rookie partner shot him a bewildered look. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“More than you’d think. Just ignore them,” Jun-ho replied, settling back into his seat, looking down at the band on his ring finger as his eyes softened, already missing you.

They were driving back toward their usual patrol route when Jun-ho caught sight of a familiar car in the distance. It was yours, the unmistakable silhouette of the vehicle and the way it handled the road bringing an instant smile to his face.

“Pulling over for a second,” he told his rookie partner.

“What? Why?”

Without explanation, Jun-ho sped up slightly, falling into step behind your car before flicking on the lights. You weren’t speeding—you rarely did—but you pulled your car to the side of the road obediently anyway, your indicator blinking calmly, putting the car in park.

Jun-ho stepped out of the patrol car, smoothing his uniform. His partner stayed inside, fiddling with the radio.

He walked up to your window, tapping lightly on the glass, then gestured for you to roll it down. When you turned to look at him, he saw the way your eyes flickered in recognition and affectionate annoyance. He could already feel his heart melting.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along as you pressed the button and lowered the window.

“Officer,” you said, your voice laced with playful suspicion. “What’s the problem?”

Jun-ho leaned against the frame, speaking in a serious way, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “License and registration, please.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t speeding. You know I wasn’t speeding.”

“You were driving suspiciously… within the speed limit,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Am I really getting a ticket for obeying the law?”

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But you can pay in kisses.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in through the open window, his lips brushing yours in a tender, stolen kiss. It was soft, warm, and lingering—the kind of kiss that reminded you just how much he adored you. When he pulled back, he waited for just a moment before stealing another kiss. And then another.

“Jun-ho,” you mumbled, your voice half-scolding but mostly filled with affection.

“One more,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the window.

You gave in, letting him kiss you again.

“That’ll cover it,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on yours.

Just as he straightened, the passenger door of the squad car opened, and his rookie partner stepped out, looking thoroughly confused. “Uh… everything okay?”

Jun-ho let out a sigh, his expression shifting back to something more professional, though you could still see the softness in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute, go wait in the car.”

The officer hesitated but nodded, retreating back to the patrol car, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jun-ho said, his voice softening as he looked at you.

You smiled warmly. “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “Sharp.”

With one last lingering look, Jun-ho stepped back, letting you drive off. He stood there for a moment, watching your car disappear down the road, his heart full.

As he returned to the squad car, his rookie partner gave him a questioning look, but Jun-ho didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just for him to cherish.

#hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho x you #squid game #hwang junho #hwang junho x reader #squid game imagine #squid game x y/n #squid game fanfic #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game fic #jun ho #jun ho x reader #jun ho squid game

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im-no-jedi · 1 year ago

Text

making myself sad thinking of future MLWTBB scenarios with Crosshair… curse me for not having the time to write these things down 😫

#had a whole dramatic moment in my head while doing the laundry #but I simply do not have the time to write it down #therefore it will simmer away like most other scenes I’ve thought out #💔💔💔#MLWTBB chatter

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abbotjack · 2 months ago

Note

God I hate to be that person but ughhhhhh I love that jack fic where they find out reader is pregnant and I'm CRAVING a second part to that (if you're u to of course). Like, how it'd be during her pregnancy, him being sweet but also worried and protective. Omg I need more soft jack w a baby on the way!!!!!

The Camouflage Onesie

part two of he begins to notice (read this first!)

content warnings: pregnancy, medical references, nausea/morning sickness, sexual content (explicit but consensual), body image changes, hormonal shifts, domestic intimacy, emotional vulnerability, labor and delivery scene, emotionally intense partner support, and high emotional/physical dependency within a marriage. yeah. pregnancy

word count : 5,735

WEEK 5

The test turned positive on a Sunday. By Monday morning, the entire medicine cabinet had been rearranged like it was a trauma cart.

Your moisturizer had been nudged over to make room for prescription-grade prenatals, a bottle of magnesium, a DHA complex, and—of all things—two individually labeled pill sorters with day-of-the-week dividers. One pink. One clear. Yours and Jack's, apparently.

You found him in the kitchen at 6:42 a.m., already in scrubs. He was calmly cutting the crusts off toast while listening to NPR and making a second cup of coffee for himself.

When he turned, he gave you a long once-over—not in a critical way, but diagnostic. Like he was scanning you for vitals only he could see.

“You’re flushed,” he said. “And your pupils are dilated. You feel dizzy yet?”

You furrowed your brow. “No?”

“Good. You’re hydrating better than I thought.”

You blinked. “Jack, I haven’t even said good morning.”

He walked over and handed you a glass of room-temp water. “I’m loving you with medically sourced precision.”

You stared at the glass. “This isn’t cold.”

“Cold water upsets your stomach. Lukewarm helps with early bloat.”

“Jack.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He tilted his head. “I’ve watched septic patients stabilize faster than accountants facing a positive Clearblue. I know exactly what this is.”

You pressed your hands to your face and groaned. “You’re not going to hover this much every week, are you?”

Jack leaned down, brushing a kiss over your shoulder. “No. Some weeks I’ll hover more.”

“I made your appointment already,” he said, voice casual. “Friday. Dr. Patel. 3:40.”

You blinked. “You didn’t even ask me.”

“She owes me a favor,” Jack said. “Got her niece into ortho during the peak of the shortage last year. Trust me—she’ll take care of you.”

You frowned, stunned. “How did you even pull that off so fast?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart. I’m an ER doctor. I have connections. I can get my wife seen before the week’s out.”

Your eyes welled up suddenly—caught off guard by how steady he was, how sure. You were still half-floating in disbelief. Jack was already ten steps ahead, clearing the path.

WEEK 6

You learned very quickly that pregnancy was a full-time job—and Jack approached it with quiet precision.

The first time you dry-heaved over the kitchen sink, he didn’t rush in with a solution. He didn’t lecture or hover. He just stepped into the room, leaned against the counter, and waited until you looked up.

“Still thinking about that leftover pasta?” he asked softly.

You made a face. “Don’t say the word pasta.”

He crossed the kitchen, wordless, and pulled open a drawer. Out came a wrapped ginger chew. Then he disappeared down the hall.

When he returned, he had your cardigan in one hand and a bottle of lemon water in the other.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

Jack handed you the water first. “You always run cold when you’re nauseous. But I know you’ll refuse a blanket if you’re flushed.”

You stared.

He draped the cardigan over your shoulders.

“You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know when you want toast.”

You half-laughed, half-cried, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “You don’t have to be this gentle every second.”

Jack leaned in. “I’m not being gentle. I’m being exact. There’s a difference.”

Later that night, you sat curled up on the couch, still wrapped in the cardigan, while Jack quietly swapped your usual diffuser oil with something new.

“Peppermint,” he said when you asked. “Helps with queasiness.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And the bin next to the couch?”

“Let’s call it contingency planning.”

You smirked. “You’re really building systems around me, huh?”

Jack looked at you—soft, certain. “No. I’m building them for you.”

He moved across the room and brushed your hair back off your forehead, thumb pausing at your temple like he could smooth out whatever discomfort lingered there.

“You’re not the patient,” he murmured. “You’re the constant. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep the ground steady under your feet.”

You didn’t have a clever reply.

You just pulled him onto the couch beside you and tucked yourself into his chest—grateful beyond words that this was who you got to build a life with.

WEEK 9

Jack was folding laundry on the bed when you walked into the room barefoot, carrying a bowl of cereal and wearing his old college sweatshirt.

You caught his glance. “What?”

He shook his head, smiled a little. “Just thinking you wear my clothes better than I ever did.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. He set a towel down. Reached for your bowl as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I got it,” you said.

“I know,” he murmured, holding it anyway while you shifted the pillow behind your back. Once you were settled, he handed it back.

You took a bite, then glanced at the basket of half-folded laundry.

“You know that’s mostly my stuff, right?”

Jack looked at the pile. “It’s ours. Who else is gonna fold your seven thousand pairs of fuzzy socks?”

You laughed into your spoon.

He leaned against the dresser and just looked at you for a second. Not in a way that made you self-conscious—just soft. Familiar.

“You’re quieter this week,” he said.

You shrugged. “I’m tired.”

He nodded. “Want to go somewhere this weekend? Just us?”

“Like where?”

“Nowhere big. Just—out of the house. We could rent a cabin. Lay around. Sleep until noon. Let you pretend I’m not watching you nap like it’s my full-time job.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You do that now?”

“Not always. Just when you start snoring like a golden retriever pup.”

“Jack.”

He grinned, walked over, and kissed your temple.

“Alright, no trips. But at least let me cook something tonight. Something warm.”

You sighed. “You already do too much.”

He looked at you seriously then, crouched a little so you were eye-level.

“I don’t keep score,” he said. “I’m your husband. You’re growing our kid. If all I have to do is make dinner and fold socks, I’m getting off easy.”

WEEK 14

By week fourteen, the second trimester hit like an exhale.

You weren’t queasy every morning anymore. Your appetite returned. You could brush your teeth without gagging. And Jack, for the first time in weeks, actually relaxed enough to sit through an entire episode of something without checking on you mid-scene.

You were curled on the couch together—your head in his lap—when he slid his hand beneath your shirt and rested it on the soft curve of your stomach.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re subtle.”

“I’m consistent.”

You snorted. “You’re clingy.”

His thumb brushed just under your ribs. “I’m memorizing.”

You shifted slightly, tucking your feet closer. “You already know everything about me.”

Jack looked down at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I know the before. This part? This is new.”

He went quiet, and you could feel the shift in him—something deeper, more reverent than before.

“I’ve seen pregnancy before,” he said. “But I’ve never… watched it happen to someone I come home to.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You okay?”

Jack nodded slowly. “I just keep thinking… you’re building someone I haven’t met yet. And I already know I’d give my life for them.”

Your throat tightened. You reached for his hand where it rested on your stomach, lacing your fingers through his.

“We’re doing okay, right?”

Jack bent down, kissed your forehead. “You’re doing better than okay.”

You smiled. “We’re a good team.”

“The best,” he said. “Even if you keep stealing all the pillows.”

You laughed. “You sleep like a corpse. You don’t need them.”

He grinned. “You’re getting cocky now that the nausea’s eased.”

“You’ll miss her when she’s gone.”

“No, I’ll just be glad to have you back.”

You rolled your eyes. “You have me.”

Jack kissed you again. Longer this time.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

WEEK 15

It started with the baby books.

Not the ones you bought. The ones Jack picked up—three of them, stacked neatly on the nightstand one morning after a grocery run you hadn’t joined him on.

You noticed them after your shower. He was still in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, humming something that definitely wasn’t in tune. But the titles made you pause.

“‘What to Expect for Dads,’” you read aloud, holding the top one up when he walked in. “You going soft on me?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. Just figured if you’re doing the building, I can at least read the manual.”

You smirked, flipping through a page. “You’re the manual.”

“I’m the triage guy. I don’t have maternal instincts. I have protocols.”

You leaned back against the headboard. “You’re being humble, but you’re gonna ace this.”

He shrugged, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just want to know what’s coming. I’ve done newborn shifts. I’ve handed babies to people shaking so hard they could barely hold them. But this? This isn’t a shift. This is us.”

You touched his arm. “You’ve already done more than I can even keep track of.”

Jack looked at you for a long moment. Then placed his hand over yours. “I don’t want to just be useful. I want to be good. For both of you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you leaned forward and kissed him—gentle, deep. His hand slid to your stomach as naturally as breathing.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “You already are.”

That night, when he thought you were asleep, he cracked open the book again.

And stayed up past midnight reading about swaddling, latch cues, and the difference between Braxton Hicks and the real thing.

WEEK 16

Jack stood in the doorway of your office for almost a full minute before saying anything.

You looked up from your laptop, eyebrows raised. “What?”

He didn’t move. Just scanned the room—your desk, the bookshelf, the little armchair in the corner that you never actually used.

Then, finally: “Is our house big enough for this?”

You blinked. “For what?”

He gestured vaguely toward your belly, then the room. “All of it. A baby. Crib. Noise. Diapers. More laundry. Less sleep.”

You smiled gently. “I thought we were turning this room into the nursery.”

“We are,” he said quickly. “I just… I keep running scenarios in my head. And this place felt huge when it was just us.”

You closed your laptop. “Jack.”

He looked at you.

“We’ll figure it out. We already are.”

He crossed the room, leaned against your desk. “I’m not trying to panic.”

“I know.”

“I just keep thinking about how everything’s going to change. I want to make sure we still feel like us once it does.”

You stood and wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting against his chest. “We will. You think too far ahead sometimes.”

“That’s my job,” he murmured.

“And mine is reminding you that it’s okay to not solve everything all at once.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I know. I just want it to be enough.”

WEEK 19

Jack was unusually quiet on the drive to the anatomy scan.

Not anxious. Just focused in a way that told you his brain had been working overtime since the moment he woke up. His hand rested on your thigh at every red light, thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of your leggings.

“You good?” you asked, turning down the radio.

He glanced over, nodded once. “Just running through the checklist in my head.”

You smiled gently. “You’re not at work, babe.”

“I know. But I’ve never seen one of these as a husband.”

You reached over and laced your fingers through his. “You don’t have to be perfect today. You just have to be here.”

He gave you a look. “I am here. That’s the problem. I’m so here I can’t think about anything else.”

The waiting room was dim, quiet, and smelled vaguely like lemon disinfectant. Jack sat beside you, legs spread in his usual posture, one hand on your knee. His thumb tapped once. Then again. Then stopped.

The tech was warm, professional. She dimmed the lights. Asked if you wanted to know the sex. You said yes before Jack could answer.

You held your breath as the screen lit up in shades of blue and gray.

“Everything’s looking healthy,” the tech said. “Strong spine, great heartbeat, long legs.”

Jack tightened his grip on your hand.

“And it looks like you’re having a girl.”

You exhaled all at once. Then laughed. Or maybe cried. It blurred together.

Jack didn’t say anything right away. Just stared at the monitor, jaw tense, eyes glassy.

You turned to look at him. “Jack.”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I just—” He swallowed. “She’s real.”

The rest of the appointment was a haze—measurements, murmurs of “good growth,” the gentle swipe of gel off your stomach. Jack didn’t let go of your hand the entire time.

That night, you came out of the bathroom in an old t-shirt and found him standing at the dresser, staring down at something small in his hand.

You stepped closer. “What’s that?”

He held it up without looking—one of the newborn onesies you’d bought weeks ago in a moment of cautious optimism. Light yellow. Soft cotton.

“You think she’ll fit in this?” he asked.

You smiled. “They’re tiny, Jack. That’s kind of the whole point.”

He nodded but didn’t move.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind. “You’re allowed to feel everything. It’s a big day.”

He turned, wrapped his arms around you carefully. “I think I was more afraid of not feeling it.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “You’re allowed to be happy.”

“I am,” he said, voice rough. “I just keep thinking about how I’m going to keep her safe. How I’m going to teach her to breathe through chaos. How I’ll probably mess it up a hundred times.”

“You’re not going to mess it up.”

He looked at you. “You really think that?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

Jack smiled for real then. “You’ve always been the smarter one.”

You rolled your eyes. “But you’re the one who’s going to end up wrapped around her finger.”

He kissed your temple. “That part was inevitable.”

WEEK 25

Jack convinced you to finally start looking at houses.

You’d been reluctant—emotionally attached to the place you’d built your early marriage in, skeptical about change when everything in your life already felt like it was shifting—but Jack had waited. Quietly. Patiently.

And then one morning, while you were brushing your teeth, he leaned in behind you, kissed your shoulder, and said, “You deserve a bigger closet.”

That was how it started.

Now, you were standing in a half-empty living room with sun pouring through tall windows and a sold sign posted out front.

Jack had just gotten off the phone with your realtor. “It’s official,” he said, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Inspection cleared. We close in three weeks.”

You blinked. “We really bought a house.”

He walked over, wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, rested his chin on your shoulder. “Correction: we bought your dream closet.”

You laughed. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I am. Also, there’s a window bench in the nursery. You don’t even have to try to make it Pinterest-worthy.”

You leaned into him, eyes scanning the bare walls. “I can already picture her here.”

Jack pressed a kiss to your neck. “I already do. I see her trying to climb that windowsill. Leaving fingerprints on every square inch of the fridge. Falling asleep on the stairs with a book she couldn’t finish.”

Your throat tightened.

You turned in his arms. “You really love it?”

He looked at you seriously. “I love what it gives you. I love that it lets you breathe. And yeah—I love that it’s ours.”

Later that night, back in your current house, you sat on the floor with your laptop open, scrolling through registry links and bookmarking soft pink paint samples. Jack handed you a cup of tea, then lowered himself on the couch beside you with a quiet grunt.

“Is it weird that I already want to be moved?” you asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s called nesting. I read about it in that chapter you skipped.”

You shot him a look. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the one folding swaddles while you build spreadsheets. This is our love language.”

You leaned into him, content. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

WEEK 27

You’d been on your feet all day—organizing documents, boxing up odds and ends, making lists of what needed to be moved and what could be donated. Jack told you to slow down three separate times, each time gentler than the last.

But now, at 8:43 p.m., you were barefoot in the kitchen, half bent over a drawer of mismatched utensils, when he walked in, tossed a dish towel on the counter, and said, “Okay. That’s it.”

You looked up. “What?”

Jack didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. He crossed the room, took the spatula from your hand, and gently nudged you toward a chair. “Sit. Let me take over.”

You blinked at him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re stubborn.”

You folded your arms. “Same thing.”

Jack crouched in front of you, resting his forearms on your knees. “You’ve done enough today. Let me be the husband who makes you sit down and drink something cold while I finish sorting forks from tongs.”

You softened, your fingers drifting to his hair. “I know you’re right. I just feel useless when I’m not doing something.”

“You’re 27 weeks pregnant,” Jack said, voice warm. “You made a person and folded three boxes of bath towels. That’s two more miracles than anyone else managed today.”

You exhaled and leaned back.

Later, when you were curled on the couch with a glass of iced water and your feet propped on a pillow, Jack settled next to you and tugged a blanket over both of you.

“House is gonna feel real soon,” he said.

You nodded. “She’s going to be born there.”

Jack’s arm slid around your shoulders. “We’ll bring her home to that nursery. Hang that weird mobile you picked that I still don’t understand.”

“You said it was ‘avant-garde.’”

“I was being polite.”

You smiled, tired and full. “We’re really doing it, huh?”

“We are.”

You rested your head on his chest. Jack’s hand drifted instinctively to your belly, and stayed there.

“Hey,” you said after a minute. “Thanks for making me sit.”

Jack kissed the top of your head. “Thanks for letting me.”

WEEK 30

You caught him standing in the doorway of the nursery around 9:00 p.m., arms folded, shoulder braced against the frame like he was keeping watch.

The room was nearly done. Diapers in bins. Chair assembled. Books on shelves. But Jack wasn’t looking at any of that. He was staring at the window, like he was imagining the light that would come through it in the early mornings.

You leaned against the opposite side of the doorway, watching him.

“What’s going on in that head?” you asked.

He glanced over at you. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

Jack cracked half a smile but didn’t move. “I keep picturing her. Not just baby-her. Grown-up her.”

You walked toward him. “What version?”

He tilted his head. “Seventeen. Wants to borrow the car. Has someone texting her who I probably don’t like.”

You laughed. “You’re already dreading a boyfriend?”

“I’m already dreading anyone who gets to be in her world without knowing what it cost us to build it.”

That stopped you.

Jack finally looked at you then—really looked. “She’s not even born yet and I already know I’d lay down in traffic for her. And I know how fast people can break things they don’t understand.”

You rested your hands on his chest. “You’re not going to be scary.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Well. You’ll look scary. Army vet. ER attending. Perpetual scowl. Built like you bench-press refrigerators for fun.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

“But you’ll love her in a way no one will mistake for anything but devotion.”

Jack leaned down, pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m not good at soft,” he murmured.

“You’re good at us,” you whispered. “That’s all she’ll need.”

He pulled you into his arms then, one hand resting flat against the curve of your belly. “She’s gonna hate me when I make her come home early.”

“She’s gonna roll her eyes when you insist on meeting everyone she ever texts.”

Jack grinned. “Damn right.”

You laughed into his shirt. “You’re so screwed.”

“I know.”

But he held you a little tighter. Didn’t say anything else. Just stood there in the dim nursery, one arm wrapped around the two of you, as if holding his whole world in place.

WEEK 32

You’d read the pregnancy forums. The blog posts. The articles with vaguely medical sources claiming the third trimester came with a spike in libido. You thought you’d be too sore, too tired. Too preoccupied.

What you hadn’t expected was the absolute onslaught.

It was like your body had one setting: Jack. Crave him. Need him. Get him here, now, fast.

He’d just gotten home from a late shift, dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door, and disappeared into the shower while you laid in bed attempting to not whine out loud. That resolve lasted six minutes.

When he walked into the bedroom, towel low around his hips, water dripping down his chest, you didn’t even mean to say it:

“I’m gonna die.”

Jack froze.

He crossed the room in seconds. “What is it? Where’s the pain?”

You were already on your back, one hand pressed to your belly, the other covering your eyes.

“Not pain,” you groaned. “Just hormones. God, Jack—this is insane.”

He crouched beside you. “You need to describe what’s happening.”

You peeked at him from under your hand. “I need you. I need you.”

Jack stilled. Blinked. Then dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a long exhale.

“Christ. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, laughing into your wrist. “I just—I’m desperate. I thought it would go away. It’s not going away.”

He lifted his head. Smiled. “Desperate, huh?”

“You’re not helping.”

“I think I am.”

Jack kissed your temple, then your cheek, then hovered over your lips. “You sure you’re good?”

You reached for him. “No. I’m feral.”

He didn’t waste another second.

What followed wasn’t frantic—it was focused. Jack stripped you with efficiency and reverence, lips brushing every newly sensitive part of you. Your belly. Your hips. Your breasts. He murmured to you the whole time—gentle things, grounding things.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said, kissing the swell of your stomach. “You’ve been patient. Let me take care of you.”

“Please,” you whispered. “I feel insane.”

“I know. I’ve got you.”

He slid inside you slow, controlled, the way he always did when he wanted to make it last. But tonight, there was something more behind it—urgency without rush, intention without pressure.

You clawed at his shoulders, moaning into his neck. “Jack, Jack—”

“Right here.”

“I missed you today.”

“I missed you too. I always do.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, legs tightening around his waist. The angle shifted, and everything inside you splintered.

“Oh—God—don’t stop—”

Jack groaned, teeth catching your jawline. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So damn good.”

He guided you through it, one hand braced behind your head, the other cradling your hip like you’d break without it. When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears at the corners of your eyes.

He followed seconds later, low and deep and steady, body shaking over yours.

Afterward, he didn’t move. Just curled around you, one arm anchored under your shoulders, the other stroking your belly in long, soothing sweeps.

“Still dying?” he asked eventually.

You huffed a laugh. “Little bit.”

Jack smiled into your shoulder. “Guess I’ll keep checking your vitals.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your chest, then your stomach, whispering something you couldn’t hear but felt down to your bones.

When you shifted against him, needy again already, he looked up with a low laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jack,” you breathed, “I’m not done.”

And Jack—predictable, capable, ready-for-anything Jack—just grinned.

“I never am with you.”

The second round was slower. Deeper. You rode his thigh first, panting against his neck, clinging to his shoulders while he whispered filth in your ear—soft, low things no one else would ever hear from him. He touched you like he already knew exactly what you’d need next week, next month, next year.

And when you collapsed against him again, trembling and sore and finally, finally full in every sense of the word—he kissed your forehead and said, “You’re everything.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

Jack tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

WEEK 35

The third trimester had turned your body into a full-time performance art piece. You were a living exhibit on discomfort, hydration, Braxton Hicks, and the high-stakes negotiation of shoe-tying. You’d stopped fighting the afternoon naps, started rotating three stretchy outfits on a loop, and made peace with the fact that gravity was no longer your friend.

Jack had adjusted too.

Without comment, he now drove you to every appointment. Without asking, he refilled your water before bed. Without blinking, he gave up half his side of the bathroom counter for the ever-expanding line of belly oils, cooling balms, and half-used jars of snacks.

But tonight?

Tonight he came home to find you crying at the kitchen table over a broken zipper on the diaper bag.

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up, cheeks blotchy. “It broke. It broke, Jack. And it was the only one I liked.”

“Hey, hey—breathe.”

You sniffled. “It had compartments. It had mesh.”

Jack took the bag gently from your hands, and examined the zipper like it was a patient in trauma.

“Looks jammed,” he said. “Not broken.”

You stared at him. “You don’t know that.”

He looked up. “I do.”

He walked over to the toolbox without fanfare, and returned two minutes later with a small pair of pliers. Thirty seconds after that, the zipper slid closed like nothing had happened.

You burst into tears again.

Jack set the bag down and pulled you into his arms. “Hormones?”

You nodded into his chest. “I love you so much.”

He smiled against your hair. “You want to take a bath?”

You sniffed. “Will you sit on the floor with me?”

“I’ll bring the towel and everything.”

Which is how twenty minutes later you were in the tub, steam curling around the mirror, your swollen belly just breaching the surface, while Jack sat on the floor, reading your baby book aloud like it was scripture.

“She’s the size of a honeydew,” he said, tapping the page. “Still gaining half a pound a week. Lungs developing. Rapid brain growth.”

You hummed. “She’s been moving a lot today.”

He smiled, reached over, and rested a palm over your belly. “She likes the sound of your voice.”

“She likes pizza. She tolerates me.”

Jack leaned over and kissed your temple. “She already loves you.”

You sighed, settling deeper into the water. “She’s going to love you more.”

Jack’s voice went quiet. “That’s not possible.”

You looked over.

He was watching you like he was memorizing the moment. Like he knew it wouldn’t last forever and wanted to hold every second of it.

“She’s got the best of you already,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You’re the one who’s been steady through everything. She’s gonna know that.”

He kissed your hand. “She’s gonna know we did it together.”

And you believed him.

Even through the tears, the discomfort, the slow shuffle from couch to fridge to bed—you believed him.

WEEK 36

Jack came home with a basket.

Not from the store. Not from a delivery service. From the hospital. Carried under one arm like it was made of glass.

You were on the couch, half-watching a cooking show, half-rubbing the spot where the baby had been kicking for the last ten minutes straight. Jack came in, dropped his keys, and didn’t say anything at first.

He just set the basket on the coffee table and said, “Robby made me promise I wouldn’t forget to give this to you tonight.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jack gestured toward it. “It’s from the ER.”

Inside: a soft blanket. A framed photo of the team crowded around a whiteboard that read “Baby Abbot ETA: T-minus 4 weeks.” A pair of hand-knitted booties labeled “Perlah Originals.” A stack of index cards, each one handwritten—Dana’s in looping cursive, Collins’s in all caps, Princess’s with hearts dotting the i’s. Robby’s simply read: Your kid already has better taste in music than Jack. Congrats.

You turned one of the index cards over, reading Dana’s note about how you were going to be the kind of mom who made her daughter feel safe and loved in the same breath.

“I didn’t know they even noticed me,” you whispered.

Jack rubbed slow circles against your bump. “They notice what matters to me.”

You looked at him.

He shrugged. “You’re my wife. You’re not just around. You’re part of everything.”

The baby kicked again. Hard enough to make you gasp.

Jack smiled, leaned in, and kissed the place she’d just moved. “She agrees.”

WEEK 38

You’d read about nesting, but you thought it would look more like baking muffins at midnight—not following Jack from room to room like his gravitational pull physically outweighed yours.

He didn’t seem to mind. He’d brush his hand down your back every time you passed, help you off the couch like you were recovering from surgery, and kiss your temple every time he walked by.

By Thursday, the baby bag was packed and parked by the front door. You’d zipped it, unzipped it, and re-packed it twice just to check. And when Jack got home that evening, he nodded at it, then set something down beside it with a quiet thunk.

You glanced over. “What’s that?”

“My go-bag,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow.

Jack nudged it with the toe of his boot. “Army-issued. Carried this thing through two deployments and six different states. Thought it’d be fitting to bring it into the delivery room.”

You blinked. “You packed already?”

He nodded, unzipped the top, and tilted the bag open for you to see: a clean shirt, a hand towel, a toothbrush, a few protein bars, and a worn, dog-eared paperback you recognized instantly.

“That one?” you said, surprised. “You always said you hated it.”

“I did,” he admitted, zipping the bag shut again. “But it’s your favorite. I read your notes in the margins when I miss you on long shifts.”

You crossed the room and leaned into him. “You’re something else.”

WEEK 40

You woke up at 2:57 a.m. with a tight, rolling wave of pressure low in your spine. It wrapped around your middle like a band and didn’t let go.

Jack was already shifting beside you. Years in the Army meant he didn’t sleep deeply—not when he was home, not when you were pregnant.

“You okay?” he asked, groggy but alert.

You exhaled shakily. “It’s time.”

He sat up immediately. “How far apart?”

“Six minutes.”

“Let’s move.”

By the time you got in the car, the contractions were coming faster—steadier. Jack didn’t speed, but he gripped the steering wheel like the world depended on it.

You were wheeled in through the ER doors—because of course you were going into labor at the hospital where Jack worked. Princess met you at triage with a knowing smile.

“She’s in three,” Princess said. “Perlah’s setting it up now.”

You were halfway into the room when Jack froze.

He turned to Collins at the desk. “Patel?”

“Stuck behind a pileup on 376,” Collins said. “She’s trying to reroute.”

Jack muttered something under his breath and scanned the monitors. “Where’s Robby?”

“Down in trauma. He’s finishing up a round.”

Jack didn’t wait. He left you in Princess’s care and went straight for the trauma bay.

Robby was wiping his hands on a towel when Jack stepped in. Hoodie half-zipped. Scrubs wrinkled. Wide awake.

“She’s in labor?”

“She’s in active labor,” Jack said. “And Patel’s not gonna make it, but—”

“You want me in the room,” Robby finished.

“I need you in the room.”

Robby dropped the towel. “Done.”

When Robby stepped into your room, you exhaled like someone had lifted a weight off your chest.

“Hey, doc,” you muttered through a contraction.

“You’re in good hands,” Robby said, glancing between you and Jack. “You’ve got half the ER out there whispering about it.”

“Tell them if they bring me chocolate, they can stay,” you joked.

Perlah dimmed the lights. Princess wiped sweat from your forehead. Robby took your vitals himself and kept your eyes steady with his.

Hours blurred together. Jack never left your side.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“You’re doing perfect.”

“She’s almost here.”

Then everything started to move faster. Robby gave a nod to Princess and Perlah.

“One more push,” he said. “You’ve got this.”

Jack leaned close, his forehead against yours. “Come on, sweetheart. Right here. You’ve got her.”

And then—

A cry. Loud. Full. Brand new.

“She’s here,” Robby said quietly.

Jack didn’t move at first. Just watched. His eyes were wet. His hand covered his mouth.

Princess handed her to you, swaddled and squirming. Jack kissed your forehead and brushed a tear off your cheek.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered. “You did it.”

Later, after they’d cleaned up and the room was quiet, you watched Jack walk over to the bassinet. He held up a camouflage onesie.

“Oh my God,” you said. “Seriously?”

He looked over, completely straight-faced. “This is important.”

“You’re impossible.”

He kissed you once, then again. And held her like he’d waited his whole life.

#request #anon request #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #dr abbot #dr abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #pregnancy

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houseofaegon · 8 days ago

Note

Bob and a reader who bruises easily and when they have sex the reader is usually marked up the next day?

Marked ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. explicit sexual scenes, bruising (reader bruises easily), rough sex, possessive!bob, protective older brother!bucky, strong language, secret relationship, minor angst, fluff, found family, chaotic thunderbolts energy, family dynamics, violence (threatened),

Summary: You and Bob had been sneaking around for months, the thrill of secrecy only fueling the fire and desire. But bruises from the night before threaten to unravel everything—especially when Bucky Barnes sees them and goes into full protective big brother mode.

Author's Note: omg you guyssssssss!!! i had so much fun writing this one. i am so obsessed with the whole secret relationship setup, and bucky going full protective older brother mode???? ughhhhhh I'm obsessed. i love my boyfriends<3 yelena my baby I love love love writing her so much she's sooo ughhh I love her!!!! i love myself some found family<3 keep the requests comingggggg!!!! i’ve got so many on my inbox already i’ve been planning out all of the fics so they’ll be posted soon<3

You woke up tangled in sheets, muscles aching, skin kissed with tenderness. Bob's arm was drapped heavy over your waist, the rise and fall of his chest pressing your back into him, grounding you, like he needed the contact to breathe. He always held you like that after—like if he let go, you might vanish.

A dull ache throbbed deep in your thighs, your hips, the slope of your neck. Each mark a reminder of the night before. Of how careful he tried to be. Of how easily he lost himself in you when the door was closed and the rest of the world disappeared.

It had started slow, like it always did.

Quiet knock on your door, late enough for the others to be asleep or buried in their own distractions. Bob would linger in the hall, hoodie thrown over his head, hands in his pockets like some kind of teenage boy sneaking into his girlfriend's room.

The moment the door clicked shut, the tension would snap. You’d throw yourself at him—starving, always starving—and he’d catch you every time.

Last night was no different. You'd been watching him all day, practically squirming on the sidelines of the gym while he trained with Yelena.

That damn white shirt clung to him, soaked through sweat, riding up every time he moved. His biceps flexed with every punch, his golden curls damp and wild. You caught him watching you more than once, eyes dark, mouth parted.

He looked wrecked before you even touched him.

By the time he showed up at your door, you didn’t say a word. You grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, yanked him into your room, and kissed him like he was oxygen.

His hands trembled when they touched your waist. “I’ll be careful,” he whispered, even as you guided him to the bed, tugging his clothes off, already breathless.

“You don’t have to be,” you said. "I don't want you to be."

He kissed down your neck, hands gripping your thighs like he was anchoring himself. When his mouth found your pulse point, he sucked just hard enough to draw a moan—and the bruise bloomed seconds later.

He pulled back to look at the mark, already forming, then looked up at you with something feral in his eyes. “You’re so fucking soft,” he groaned. “I’m gonna mark every inch of you. Mine. All of you.”

You gripped his hair, kissed him harder. “Then do it.”

His fingers laced with yours, pinning them above your head as he pushed into you slowly, the stretch of him drawing a gasp from your lips. He watched your face like it was the only thing that mattered.

His thrusts were slow, deep, patient at first—until you begged.

“Harder, Bob. Please. Don’t hold back.”

He shuddered. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you gasped. “I want all of you.”

His mouth crashed into yours, and the dam broke.

You swore the headboard cracked. The bed groaned beneath you. Your name was a prayer on his tongue, murmured between bruising kisses and gasped apologies he didn’t need to make.

Because you loved the marks. The ache. The secrecy.

The thrill of sneaking out of his room at 3AM, hair a mess, lips swollen. Of pretending nothing happened in the halls the next day. Of brushing fingers under the table during briefings, eyes meeting like a promise.

And in those moments—when no one else knew, when it was just you and him—you felt more his than ever.

You traced a bruise on your collarbone absently as you slipped out of his bed, one of his t-shirts falling to mid-thigh. You bit your lip to hide the satisfied smile. Bruised and adored. Just how you liked it.

The tower was still quiet as you crept back to your room to change, slipping into gym shorts and a hoodie for morning training. You paused once, catching your reflection in your bathroom mirror—faint marks painting your hips, the curve of your neck, the inside of your thigh.

Heat flushed through you at the memory. His hands gripping your waist. His voice—“You’re mine.”

You tugged the hoodie tighter and headed down to start training.

The gym was already humming with low music and the sound of punches hitting pads. Bucky was setting up on the mat, hoodie off, sweat darkening the collar of his black shirt. He gave you a quick nod when you walked in—his version of a good morning.

Bucky Barnes had been like a brother to you since day one. Not in the forced “everyone on a team is family” way—no, this was different. Real.

He was rough around the edges when you first joined the Thunderbolts, all tight-lipped commands and watchful eyes. Cold. Distance. Guarded. But something in you cracked through that hard soldier shell. Maybe it was how stubborn you were. How warm. Unafraid to rile him up, to poke the bear. Maybe it was how you asked too many questions. Or the way you always saved him a seat in the briefing room. Or how you reminded him—without meaning to—what it felt like to care about someone without it turning into war.

You sometimes reminded him of Steve.

He saw him in you. In the way you saw people. In how you never gave up on anyone, not even him. In the way you could smile even after a mission gone sideways and still say, "We're okay. We'll figure this shit out."

You were brave. Kind. Loyal.

You were the thing Steve used to fight for.

And Bucky—he didn’t say it, couldn’t say it—but he clung to that. To you. Because if someone like you could believe in him, then maybe there was still something worth saving inside him.

That’s why he called you “kid,” even though you weren’t.

That’s why he tossed you his hoodie when you were cold, sat beside you when you couldn’t sleep, and taught you how to break a man’s wrist with a flick of your body weight.

He watched over you in the field. Back-to-back in a firefight. A quiet hand on your shoulder after a tough mission. His voice, always steady, always low: “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

He wasn’t your teammate. He wasn’t a friend.

He was your brother. Your family. Not by blood. But by bond. By choice.

And that made what happened next inevitable.

Because when he saw those bruises, the ground shifted underneath his feet. All he could see was someone hurting you. And he'd spent decades trying to protect people like you, people he cared about. He had lost Steve. He wasn't going to lose you.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Barely,” you said, grinning. “Try smiling once in a while.”

He rolled his eyes. “Try not tripping over your own feet.”

“Rude,” you said.

He tossed you a set of gloves. “Let’s go. Standard drills.”

You started slow. Footwork. Blocks. He moved easily, but watched your form like a hawk, correcting gently with a hand at your hip, your wrist, your shoulder.

“Looser on the right,” he murmured. “You’re tightening up too much, kiddo.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” His tone was skeptical. “Take off the hoodie.”

You froze.

“It’s hot in here,” he added, too casually. “And you’re sweating like hell.”

“Bucky—”

“Off, Y/N.”

Shit.

You sighed, peeled it off, revealing the tank top beneath—and the faint, fresh constellation of bruises that peppered your collarbone and shoulders.

The moment the hoodie dropped to the mat, everything stopped.

Bucky’s whole body tensed.

His eyes locked on the marks. A slow, terrible realization crawling across his face like storm clouds. His voice was suddenly razor sharp.

He stopped breathing.

“What the fuck is that?”

You blinked, already knowing where this was going. “It’s nothing, Bucky.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice dropped, deadly quiet. “Who did this?”

“I said it’s nothing—”

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me. Y/N, what is that?” He stepped forward, fingers brushing the side of your neck. His touch was soft, but his jaw was tight. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

“I—” You swallowed. “It’s fine, Bucky. It’s—just mosquito bites, that's all.”

“I'm not stupid. I know what bruises look like,” he snapped, his voice rising. “And those? They didn’t come from sparring.”

You stepped back. "Please don't do this."

“Do not follow me unless you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

And then he was storming down the hall, headed for the common room. Straight into the storm.

Because to him? This wasn’t just bruises.

It was his kid—his sister—hurt, marked, and silent about it.

And he’d tear down the whole damn team to protect you.

But of course, you followed him. You fumbled to put the hoodie back on, trying to catch up with Bucky.

You caught up to him just as he stormed into the common room, boots stomping accross the floor. You barely had time to catch your breath before all hell broke loose.

Bob was sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out, hoodie pulled halfway over his head, curls messy on his forehead. Yelena sat beside him eating chips straight from the bag, one boot resting on the coffee table. Walker was slumped on the other, flipping channels again and again.

"Just pick a damn channel already, jeez," Yelena scoffed.

"We have Netflix you know?" Bob chimed in softly.

The second Bucky entered, everyone looked up.

“Do you know who fucking did this to her?” Bucky barked, voice sharp enough to cut metal.

Yelena blinked, slow and unbothered. She raised one perfectly arched brow and held up her bag of chips. “Wow. Good morning to you too, soldier boy. Want a chip?”

Walker frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this!” Bucky turned, grabbed your armg gently, always gently, and tugged the hoodie sleeve up to show the fading bruise near your wrist. “And that,” he pointed to your neck. “And that.”

“Bucky, please—” you tried, stepping in front of him, but he wasn’t hearing it.

“You better start talking,” he growled, pointing at each of them like they were suspects in a murder trial. “Because if one of you laid a hand on her—”

“Okay, this is very dramatic,” Yelena said, popping another chip in her mouth. “I love it. Are we in a movie right now? Because damn, the drama.”

“I’m being very fucking serious right now, Yelena.”

She shrugged. “Just trying to defuse the tension.”

“And you're not helping!”

“I know,” she said sweetly.

Bucky whirled on Walker next. “Was it you?”

Walker sat up straighter, blinking. “What? No! Jesus—”

“I swear—if you even looked at her wrong—”

“Oh, come on, man!” Walker snapped, tossing the remote on the couch. “I’m not suicidal.”

While Bucky and Walker bickered, Yelena turned to you slowly, her eyes cool but curious. Then—subtle as smoke—her gaze dropped to the bruises peeking from your hoodie, then flicked to Bob.

Bob hadn’t moved. But he was watching. His shoulders tense. His jaw clenched.

Yelena raised one perfectly arched brow. You saw the moment it clicked for her.

Of course she knew.

She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the way you looked at each other during debriefs. The way you flushed when Bob’s fingers brushed yours in the kitchen. She’d definitely heard the sounds coming from your room last night—because, shocker, spies hear everything.

But she wasn’t going to rat you out to Bucky. No. She gave you the look—the look—tilting her head with the tiniest smirk like, girl, really? him? damn okay.

Then she turned back to her chips like none of this concerned her.

Meanwhile, Bucky was still in full interrogation mode.

“I will find out who did this,” he said, voice rising again. “And when I do—”

“You’re going to do what, Barnes?” Walker snapped back. “Ground us? You're not her dad.”

“I don’t have to be,” Bucky growled. “She’s family. I raised her on this goddamn team while you were still figuring out which way the bathroom was!”

“Oh my god,” Yelena said through a mouthful of chips, “this is better than anything on TV.”

You rubbed your hands down your face and slowly met Bob's eyes, just for a second.

It was enough.

He stood up. Violently. Almost knocking off the entire coffee table.

Yelena sat up straighter, chip bag rustling. "Oh, here we go."

Walker looked from Bob to Bucky, then back. “Wait. Wait wait wait—are we fighting now? In the middle of the living room? Are you guys serious?"

Bucky turned toward Bob, chest puffe like a feral bull. "Say something. I dare you."

“Enough!” Bob’s voice cracked like a whip across the room, thunderous, vibrating in the air like it came from somewhere deeper than his chest.

Yelena froze, chip halfway to her mouth. “Well, there goes the drywall.”

Bucky took one menacing step forward. “What did you say?”

Bob didn’t flinch. His voice was low. "It was me."

Dead. Silence.

Oh, fuck.

You could've heard a pin drop.

Yelena whispered, “Oh my god, I knew it.”

Walker blinked. “Hold the fuck on.” He gasped like he just found out Santa wasn’t real. “Wait—you two?! You’ve been doing it?”

“You?” Bucky spat, stepping forward. “You think that’s fucking funny?”

“No,” Bob said calm. Too calm.

And that snapped Bucky.

He lunged. “I’m going to kill you right now!”

“Bucky!” you shouted, throwing yourself between them just as Bucky’s fist came up.

You caught him mid-swing, grabbing his wrist, bracing your weight against him with everything you had.

“NO! No, no, no—Bucky, stop!” you yelled, pushing back on his chest, eyes wide.

Bob didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His hands stayed at his sides, jaw set like he was ready to take it.

“You did this to her?” he hissed. “You put your hands on her?”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Bob bit out. “I’ve never laid a hand on her in anger—”

“You left bruises!” Bucky shouted, jabbing a finger toward Bob like he was issuing a death sentence. “You don’t get to decide what hurting her looks like! You don’t get to be the one who touches her and makes her lie to me about it!”

“Bucky, please,” you pleaded, voice breaking.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Bob snapped. “You think I don’t know what I’m capable of? I’ve been terrified of it since day one. Every time I touch her, I’m scared shitless I’ll lose control—but I don’t. Because I’d rather die than ever cross that line.”

Bucky’s jaw locked. “That’s not comforting.”

“She’s not a child, Bucky,” Bob bit out. “She knows what she wants."

"But she's my child, Bob! Mine," Bucky roared, voice cracking with something other than rage, like fear. "I've been protecting her since she joined this team. I've bled for her. I would take a bullet for her if it meant keeping her safe. You think you can just crawl into her bed—what? Expect me to shake your hand? Pat your back? You're fucking delusional."

"She's not yours to own!" Bob roared. "You don't get to decide who touches her, who loves her. She’s not some piece of property. She made a choice. I made my choice."

Bucky’s breathing was ragged, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. “She’s my family!" he hissed. "And you didn’t even have the balls to tell me.”

“I wanted to,” Bob snapped. “She told me you’d do this.”

“She was right!” Bucky barked, his eyes glossing over with betrayal. “Because I trusted you. You were supposed to be safe.”

“I am.” Bob’s voice dropped. “I love her. I’m careful with her. You know she bruises easily. Everyone knows it. I try. I always try. But she wanted it. She asked me to. I never forced her. I’d never do that to her.”

You stepped in closer, your hand sliding to Bucky’s chest. “He’s telling the truth.”

Bucky stared at you like he didn’t recognize you for a second. “You let him…”

“I wanted him,” you said simply. “And I still do.”

Walker stood up slowly, blinking like a deer in headlights. “Oh my god,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Is this… is this a thing? Like a regular thing? You two just… sneak around and… Jesus Christ, you two fuck?”

Yelena nearly choked on her chips.

She turned to him slowly, eyes wide with disbelief. “Walker. My guy. You live here. How have you not noticed?”

“I thought the noise was the pipes!” he said, flailing.

Yelena tilted her head. “You thought the pipes moaned her name at 2AM?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!”

She blinked. "Walker, if your pipes ever sound like that, you call an exorcist. Not maintenance."

He shook his head, exhaling hard. Then he looked at Bob, fury simmering low. “If you ever cross a line—if you so much as make her flinch or cry—I will end you. You break her heart, I break your face. Deal?”

“Deal,” Bob said without hesitation.

Bucky stared at Bob, his jaw ticking. But then his eyes shifted—back to you. Still tight with anger, but… softer now.

“You okay?”

You smiled—small, soft, but sure. “I promise,” you said. “I’m more than okay.”

You glanced back at Bob. He was still watching you like the room didn’t exist.

“He makes me happy, Buck.”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Goddammit.”

He yanked you into a hug, a little too tight, one arm slung around your neck like he was both scolding you and shielding you. You melted into it as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“I swear to God, Y/N,” he muttered, voice low in your ear, “if he hurts you, I’ll kill him myself.”

You chuckled against his chest. “I know you would.”

Bucky sighed and pulled back, plopping down onto the couch like the last ten minutes had aged him a decade. “And for the love of all that is holy—use protection.”

Yelena snorted next to him. “And do not fuck in the communal shower. Please. I beg you.”

Walker looked horrified. “Wait—have they?!”

You and Bob exchanged a look. He blushed. You smirked. Then you crossed the room, and without missing a beat, Bob reached out and pulled you into him. His arm slid over your shoulders like muscle memory, tucking you against his side with an ease that made everyone in the room groan. He looked down at you with that soft, dopey grin, like a damn teenager who just scored the girl of his dreams.

Yelena let out the loudest groan of all. “Oh my god, you’re disgusting. Look at you—so in love. Yuck!” She made a dramatic gagging noise. “This is vile. I feel violated.”

Bob chuckled.

Bucky didn’t even look. He just threw his head back. “Jesus Christ, please stop this. I can’t take it anymore.”

Yelena didn’t miss a beat. “Honestly, Buck? I’m surprised she can still walk after what I heard last night.”

Bob choked violently.

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his hoodie, muffling a wheeze.

Bob cleared his throat, red as a tomato. “Okay, wow.”

Bucky clapped his hands, hard. “OKAY! Great. That’s enough. Breakfast. Anyone?”

Walker, still pale, raised a hand. “I need alcohol.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “You know what? Make it two. Double.”

Yelena leaned back, completely unbothered, tossing a chip in her mouth. “God, I love this team.”

And you? You looked around—at the chaos, the bickering, the laughter—and felt it settle deep in your chest.

You loved them too.

With all your heart.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

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