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macfrog · 3 months

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sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

��It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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haunted-headset · 5 months

Text

🤍 Did You Just Flinch? 🤍

Summary: You flinched when he yelled at you.

word count: 761

tags: @zuuriell @somebody-v @vibestillaxxx @ax-y10 @joviepog@themonsterunderurmom @ogelizasoot @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza@artistphantom @ace-call-me-what-youd-like @lexx-the-gay-rubber-ducky @finleyforevermore @poraphia @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @mysticalsoot(let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!)

cw: cursing, arguing, use of Y/N, you/yours pronouns used, reader flinches, hurt/comfort, Wilbur being kind of a dickhead, mentions of past abuse, use of a pet name at the end

a/n: hey guys! Quick little story: I watched a video that was basically Wilbur getting mad for like 3 or so minutes, & the first clip was Wilbur pretending to be angry at someone who was interviewing him, & Wilbur yells very loudly & I flinched & I thought "that's a banger idea for a fic, good job, me!" so yeah!! :) here's the video if you wanna see

You & Wilbur both had terrible days. You didn't get a wink of sleep because of work & stress, & the entire week, you two were snippy with each other. You didn't blame him for any of it; he was stressed, & he was tired. Today, however, you were a little angry with him for it. You two had been extra snippy last night & had an argument, & that led to Wilbur choosing to sleep on the couch, & he didn't give you your good morning kisses & hugs when he left for the studio. He just said muttering a goodbye. Not once, in all of the years of dating you, did he ever not kiss you before he left. Even if you were screaming at him the night before or you were both pissed off at each other, he'd still do it.

When you finally got home from work, you found Wilbur sitting at his desk in the office, a mug of coffee next to his laptop. He was tapping his foot repetitively & he looked tired. His hair was tousled & his eyelids were drooping. You walked over to grab the coffee mug & he grabbed your wrist, not hard enough to hurt you.

"I'm still drinking that," he sighed.

"Hello to you too," you replied. He sighed again. "I'm just refilling your coffee for you."

"I didn't ask you to do that," he snapped. "I can do it myself."

"What is your issue today?" you said, somewhat annoyed.

"What's my issue?!" he said, raising his voice slightly. "What's your issue?! You've been such an ass to me this week! You're not making the stress any fuckin' easier!"

"Neither are you!" you said, your voice also raising. "You're being an ass, too! A massive one!"

"Oh, j--FUCK OFF!" he said, now yelling. "Fuck off! You think--you just sat there thinkin' you're tough shit, didn't you, fuckin' wanker?"

You froze. He's never yelled at you like that before.

"I-I can leave & let you be if you want--" you started in a small voice.

"Oh, so you're just fuckin' dumping me now?!" he shouted. "Is that what you're doing?! You're trying to break up with me?! What a fuckin' load of bollocks!"

"No no no no!" you said, still using that soft voice. "I-I was just going into another--"

"What, are you gonna try & cheat on me?!" he yelled, somehow getting louder. "Is that what this is, you fuckin' wanker?"

"Not at all!" you said quietly. "Not at all! I wouldn't dream of--"

"SPEAK UP!" he nearly shrieked as he raised his hand. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

You flinched & covered your head as you shook & were on the verge of tears. He was most likely going to hit you. That's what the last few did.

Wilbur froze. He lowered his hand & looked at you with shock. Tears began to fill his eyes.

"Did you just flinch?" he said, almost a whisper. "Love, I--I wasn't going to hurt you. I would never."

You didn't say anything. You just sobbed.

"Oh my God, darling," he whispered, his voice cracking. He moved your hands away from your face & wrapped his arms around your waist as he took in the sight of your trembling lips & tearful eyes.

"I'm not like him, love," he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I would never even dream of hurting you, okay? I'm so sorry I scared you. I shouldn't have yelled."

& you broke down in his arms as he buried your head in his chest & let out a few small cries of his own. You both mumbled apologies to each other constantly as you hugged each other like your lives depended on it. Suddenly, he picked you up bridal style & placed you on the bed.

"Wait right here, okay?" he said, brushing the hair away from your face. "I'm going to run the store."

He came back a few moments later with a full grocery bag. When you opened the bag, you saw your favorite snacks, drinks, candy, a plushie, & a pair of slippers.

"Wil, this is too much--" you started. He cut you off with a gentle kiss.

"Nothing is too much for my sunflower," he smiled. "Now, what movie do you want to watch?"

For the rest of the night, you two watched your favorite movies & TV shows, & when it was time to go to bed, you two cuddled & talked & giggled with each other until you fell asleep in his arms.

#wilbur soot #wilbursoot #wilbur #wilbur soot imagine #fanfic #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fic #creative writing #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #angst with a happy ending #angst #hurt/comfort with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #sad fanfiction #happy ending

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smileysuh · 1 year

Text

sandwich

🌙 staring. Jaehyun & Jungwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. He watches Jungwoo kiss you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around, announcing to the world ‘my good luck charm ducky baby!’ and if Jaehyun didn’t love his roommate so much, he’d have barfed at the sickly sweetness of it all… Or maybe from the jealousy. But he’d never admit that to himself.

cw/ tw. threesome, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, shower sex, spit roasting, praise, inklings of hand/size kink, deep throating/choking, oral, etc... I petnames. (pretty) duck/ducky

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 11.6k

🍭 aus. frat/basketball, non idol, established relationship au, poly, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. when I tell you how much I love this pairing- check out this post i made which has links to a bunch of jaewoo tiktoks if you’re not convinced these two are the bomb dot com, and then return to enjoy frat basketball besties- they’re mvp’s I swear

Thursday

When Jaehyun arrives late to frat movie night, taking his seat next to his roommate, he can tell something is off, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Jungwoo is distracted - obviously so - left knee bobbing, and a hand playing with his phone on the armrest. His eyes are on the large flatscreen above the mantle place, but he’s gnawing on his lower lip, a habit that he entertains when he’s lost in thought-

A small buzz reverberates through the couch, and in the darkness of the living room, Jungwoo’s lit phone screen draws numerous eyes, including Jaehyun’s.

At such a close distance, Jaehyun can clearly see the notification- can see the hearts and star emojis surrounding the word ‘duck,’ which confuses the basketball player greatly- but he forces his gaze away, forces himself to not broach the topic of Jungwoo’s new love interest at frat movie night-

As Jungwoo’s roommate, basketball teammate and best friend- Jaehyun’s sure he’ll find out what’s going on soon enough.

Friday

You suppose when you’re dating a frat boy, going to his parties comes with the territory, but you’re still not prepared for the onslaught to your senses that happens as soon as you step through the front door.

You’d heard how loud the music was playing as you approached the large frat house and now, as you follow Jungwoo, wading through the sea of people, the thrum of rap surrounds you. People push at your sides - a couple making out nearly trips over your foot - and you find yourself latching onto the arm of the tall puppy boy who happily tugs you along.

There are a few familiar faces in the swath of movement- you’re pretty sure Jungwoo’s friend Haechan is standing on a table waving his shirt around- but you guess that could be any frat boy-

Mark is definitely recognizable with his teal-colored hair and snapback, leaning against a wall talking to one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen- his hair bleached white, and his eyes focused solely on Mark-

“There he is!” Jungwoo’s voice makes you look forward, and you immediately recognize his roommate standing near the end of the crowded hallway.

You’ve not yet officially met the legendary Jeong Jaehyun- but Jungwoo’s definitely talked about him, and the guy’s face is all over his Instagram-

They’re an inseparable pair, on and off the basketball court, where they’re known for being so in sync that they often make mirrored movements-

You’d first noticed the mirroring when - during first year - you’d been working for the school’s newspaper, and the usual basketball reporter had been sick. Going in his place, you’d been exposed to the school’s team for the first time- and you’d realized you enjoyed the players more than the game itself.

Now here you are, a year later, dating one of the very men who’d caught your eye- and he’s about to introduce you to the other.

It’s clear the moment Jaehyun sees Jungwoo; his face lights up. And as Jungwoo tows you through the partygoers scattered throughout the hallway to reach his friend, you prepare yourself to make a good first impression.

“Jae!” Jungwoo exclaims, releasing your hand in favor of pulling his roommate into a hug.

“Jungwoo!” the dimpled man echoes, a happy smile on his face when he releases his friend. “You weren’t here for pre.”

“Had to go pick this one up,” Jungwoo jokes, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “This is Duck!”

“Oh my god-” you groan, immediately feeling heat rising on your skin-

“Duck?” Jaehyun cocks his head at you, brows knitting together. “Nice name?”

“It’s a nickname,” Jungwoo says, looking down at you with a fond grin. “Met her a few days ago shooting hoops with Mark, Haechan, and Johnny- there was a bit of an airball, someone screamed Duck, and she got hit on the back of the head-”

“What?” Jaehyun’s eyes have widened, and he’s looking at you with concern-

“Right?!” Jungwoo exclaims, smiling down at you fondly. “I was worried too! Had to check to make sure she was okay- Haechan came by to insist he’d called Duck, and you said…”

“My name isn’t Duck,” you giggle.

“Thought it was the cutest thing ever,” Jungwoo says wistfully. “Asked her out then and there.”

“He made sure I got home safe and everything,” you explain, “but he kept calling me Duck.”

“Because you’re my little ducky- even if you can’t duck to save your life,” Jungwoo grins, pinching your cheek gently.

“I didn’t have a concussion or anything-” you insist.

“I mean, you said yes to a date- are you sure you didn’t need to go to a doctor?” Jaehyun asks. “Or maybe an optometrist?”

“Hey!” Jungwoo bellows loudly, grabbing at the front of Jaehyun’s shirt, but they both start to laugh pretty soon thereafter, and you see the playfulness of their relationship.

It makes your heart sing.

“No offense,” Jaehyun says once he and Jungwoo have given each other space, “but if I don’t want to call you Duck, what can I call you?”

You give the frat boy your name without a second thought- only for him to pause, tilt his head and ask, “Aren’t you the chick who wrote that one article for a game we did last year?”

“Huh?” You’re shocked he’d read it, let alone registered and remembered your name-

“Yeah- you said a line or two about uh-” the basketball player looks upwards, trying to find his thoughts- “you said ‘one of the most interesting things about our school’s team, is the way in which the point gaurd (Jeong Jaehyun) and shooting gaurd (Kim Jungwoo) play in total unison.’ then you gave some statistic about the number of completed passes or something- that was you, right?”

“Uh…” you look at Jungwoo, who’s taken a step away so he can assess you up and down- then your eyes meet Jaehyun’s again, only for you to downcast them- “Yeah, that was me.”

“That was you!?” Jungwoo asks in shock, jaw dropping.

“I’m sorry I-”

“Coach put a clipping of that article in our locker room with the stat highlighted-” Jaehyun tells you, “started taking his own stats after that too.”

You grimace, “Yikes.”

The frat boys laugh at you, and Jungwoo is quick to pull you to his side- “If I’d known you’d written that article, I would have liked you even more when we met,” he insists.

“The guy who usually reports on us doesn’t have much more to say than a play by play,” Jaehyun adds. “He doesn’t watch as closely as you seem to. Are you a fan of basketball?”

“Erm- not really?” you admit- only to watch Jungwoo’s expression fall. “I mean- yes! It can be fun- but I don’t, like- I don’t watch it on tv, or anything.”

“What were you doing at a basketball court when you met this guy then?” Jaehyun asks, nudging his roommate.

“She was walking by with headphones on,” Jungwoo smiles. “Completely lost in her own world- probably wouldn’t have heard Haechan yell ‘duck’ even if she hadn’t been listening to music.”

“I see, I see,” Jaehyun nods. He looks you up and down, gaze lingering on Jungwoo’s arm wrapped around you, then he sighs. “Well, I’m gonna go grab some beer.”

“We’re going to go upstairs.”

The roommates exchange their statements of intent with a nod of understanding, and then Jaehyun is excusing himself with a “nice to meet you, Duck,” and Jungwoo begins to lead you to the second floor.

“What did you think of Jae?” your new boy toy lover asks when you reach his room, closing the door behind you both.

“He seemed nice.”

It might not be the complete truth- afterall, Jae’s behavior might be more easily described as aloof than friendly or nice-

He’d been hard for you to read, but to your credit, there’d been a lot going on in the little hallway downstairs, and - contrary to popular belief - first impressions aren’t everything.

“You doing okay?” Jungwoo asks as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms to pull you close to the chest that’s already beginning to feel like home.

You nod, “of course,” reaching up to run your fingers through Jungwoo’s pretty honey-coloured hair- he’s dyed it recently, and you’re still getting used to it over the dark strands you’d committed to memory when you’d first watched him play basketball. “Happy to be here with you.”

“Me too,” he grins, searching your eyes and looking over your face, gaze darting to your lips-

You’ve only ‘officially’ known the man embracing you for a short time, but already, he has you wrapped around his finger. There’s not another guy in the whole world who could convince you to come to a frat party for a good lay-

And yet, here you are, looking up at Jungwoo like a lost little ducky-

He’d been right about that at least.

Haechan throwing a basketball at your head has been the best thing that could have ever happened to you- after all, it led you here; to Jungwoo.

You’re both leaning in now- and you can feel his breath-

“Wait- Woo?”

He blinks down at you, letting out a “hmm?”

“You share your room with Jae- are you sure he’s not going to come up here?”

“He won’t,” Jungwoo assures you.

“How can you be so confident?”

“Because we told him we’d be up here.”

“So…”

“So,” Jungwoo laughs, “he knows what that means. Now is Ducky gonna give me a kiss? Or keep pouting these cute lips.”

Now you’re giggling too, and a moment later your mouths are pressed together; roommate forgotten.

Saturday

In the wake of an insane win against a rival university, Jaehyun is more than excited to hit the campus bar to celebrate with his team. It’s tradition- and it allows the group to mingle with other students while drinking off the buzz of their win.

As he leaves the locker room, Jaehyun bumps into a congregation of his frat brothers, and he slots himself next to the tallest dude there, looking around for his roommate.

“Where’s Jungwoo?” Jaehyun questions, gaze shifting back the way he’d come-

He’s pretty sure Jungwoo’s out of the locker room already- he hadn’t been inside changing-

Oddly enough, it’s Mark Lee who has the answer, cocking his head slightly with confusion while stating, “He already left with Duck.” There’s a beat of silence where Jaehyun digests what’s been said, then Mark asks, “Didn’t he tell you?”

He hadn’t.

Just as Jungwoo had taken his sweet time to tell Jaehyun he’d even met you in the first place.

“He must have mentioned it,” the point guard says, giving his head a little shake-

“Must have,” Johnny echoes, and Jaehyun can feel the elder’s eyes burning into him. “Looks like we’re all here, let’s head out.”

The group exits the gymnasium, heading off towards the bar, and Jaehyun finds himself trailing at the back, walking in step with a frat brother named Doyoung.

They’re both silent, and the silence feels like an ache, because walks to the bar are never silent for Jae- who usually has his best friend hanging onto his shoulder and bellowing recounts of the game-

“You guys played well,” Doyoung notes politely.

Jaehyun wants to tell him to fuck off.

Monday

Jungwoo is so enamored with you- so completely content just watching you read your textbook, that he forgets to watch the time.

When the door to his room suddenly opens, you both jump like scardy cats, and Jaehyun freezes too, looking between you and Jungwoo.

“Oh,” the point guard in the entryway says. Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind himself without another word.

“I-” you begin, at the same time Jungwoo goes to explain “he-”

You both pause, allowing the other to speak, and after another awkward exchange, Jungwoo finds himself reassuring you that “Jae is like this sometimes- he gets weird around people-”

“I can go if he needs to be in your room,” you offer, eyes full of sincerity.

Your words make Jungwoo laugh, shaking his head and resting a hand on your thigh. “No, you should stay-” he insists, “besides, there are worse things he could have walked in on.”

“I guess you’re right about that.”

With a wink and a quick chaste kiss, Jungwoo gets to his feet. “I’m going to go talk to him though, is that okay?”

“Uh huh, I’ll, uh-” he watches you swallow, “I’ll be here, I guess.”

“Don’t wander off,” Jungwoo teases, already practically bouncing to the door.

He knows exactly where to find his roommate, and heads to the kitchen, taking the stairwell two steps at a time.

Jaehyun is predictably where Jungwoo expected him to be, rifling through the fridge, and Jungwoo takes it upon himself to scare his friend, grinning wildly before poking the frat boy in the ribs and yelling “Boo!”

The two men are wrestling within seconds, with Jungwoo continuing to giggle while Jaehyun flips the dynamic, tickling Jungwoo’s sides while asking “you think this is funny!? You think it’s funny to sneak up on people!?”

“Says you,” Jungwoo laughs, rolling on the kitchen floor while meekly fending off his roommate’s hands- he truly doesn’t mind being tickled as much as some people do, “You’re the one who just barged into our room-”

“That’s not sneaking,” Jaehyun insists, pinning Jungwoo by the wrists- “It was an accident.” He pulls away a moment later, standing and running a hand through his hair. “You could have texted me that you had Duck over.”

“I forgot,” Jungwoo smiles, sitting up and ignoring the pain in his abdominal muscles from laughing so hard. “Besides, we weren’t doing anything.”

Jaehyun’s eyes asses Jungwoo, and the tall blonde continues sitting on the floor, giving his roommate space to say whatever retort he finds fit.

Then Jaehyun simply sighs. “Yeah, but if you had been-”

“Then I would have locked the door,” Jungwoo says with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Haechan?”

In another room, someone yells “hey!” and Jungwoo screams “Haechan locks his doors 2022!” before returning his attention to Jaehyun. “Do you want to come join us?” he asks nonchalantly.

“What?” Jaehyun visibly tenses, and it only takes Jungwoo a second to realize why.

“Not for that, silly-” he reaches out to push Jae’s leg. “I think we’re gonna watch some movies, she might stay over, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, she can stay over-” the response is quick, “But uh- I think I’m going to go shoot some hoops or something.”

Jungwoo cocks his head, brows furrowing. “You don’t usually shoot hoops on Mondays.”

“Right, cuz you know my schedule by heart,” Jaehyun scoffs.

“I do,” the younger man insists, beginning to list off his friend’s daily activities.

When he gets to “mid-day jack-off sesh-” Jaehyun tells him “that’s enough, I’m leaving” and Jungwoo watches him go with a grin.

Pushing Jaehyun’s buttons is so easy- not that Jungwoo does it often, he just wishes his roommate would be honest about things. Even if he is going to shoot hoops- it definitely hadn’t been in his schedule, and Jungwoo knows it.

He knows the point guard probably just doesn’t want to be a third wheel.

Jungwoo only wishes his friend could see that, even with you around, their friendship needn’t change.

Tuesday

When Jaehyun wakes up, it takes a moment or two for him to remember the events of the night before, and when he does, he’s quick to roll onto his side, eyes seeking out the bed where you and Jungwoo are bundled up like love bugs.

After returning from shooting hoops, Jaehyun had reluctantly joined you and Jungwoo for a few episodes of a Netflix food show.

Sat next to his best friend, it had almost felt normal to be watching ‘Somebody Feed Phil,’ but every time you’d laughed, it had been a reminder that things were different.

This is the first time you’ve slept over in his room, and Jaehyun finds himself thinking about you and Jungwoo’s relationship - something he’d not been intending to consider - within the first moments of wakefulness.

It had been nice to have you around, and Jaehyun knows that if he’s not careful- he could create waves in the budding romance the two of you have.

He wants Jungwoo to be happy, he really does- but there’s a jealousy biting at Jaehyun’s heart, and it prompts him to get out of bed quietly, intent on a shower to wash away the nasty feelings.

There are a few frat boys awake, and when Jaehyun reaches the large communal bathroom, he finds Haechan and Mark getting ready for their classes.

They talk about a variety of topics while Jaehyun washes his hair, from a group project to girls they’re interested in, and when Jaehyun goes to dry off, he gets to listen to them fight about whether or not they need to shave.

“I have stubble, dude-” Mark is insisting, rubbing at his jaw while Haechan scoffs loudly.

“Stubble my ass, Mark Lee,” Haechan says. “Who’s it gonna bother anyways? It’s not like you’re getting any.”

“I am!”

“You are?” Jaehyun asks, wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I-” Mark’s ears have turned red.

Jaehyun can’t believe that all around him, his friends are getting cuffed for the season.

He can’t believe that they so easily jump into relationships or hookups-

As much as Jaehyun might have a reputation for being one of the sexiest dudes in the entire frat village - he is Mister Valentine after all - he’s a lot more relaxed than people give him credit for.

Or at least… he thinks of himself that way.

He’s never been the type to think he needs a girlfriend- but then again, he’s never really had a true girlfriend, not one who really knew and accepted him.

He wonders if it’s even possible for him at this point, and seeing best friends like Mark and Jungwoo dabble in love brings up this voice in Jaehyun’s head that tells him ‘You’ll never find the one.’

Mark and Haechan leave the bathroom, and Jaehyun tugs his clothes on before following them.

Two doors down from his own, Jaehyun begins to hear sounds, and his heart sinks in his chest, because if anyone can identify Jungwoo by his moans- it’s his roommate.

Stopping in front of his room, Jaehyun sighs, looking down at the doorknob.

“It’s locked, I tried,” comes Haechan’s voice, as he comes out of the room next door, backpack slung casually over his shoulder. “I wanted to open it and scream ‘Jungwoo locks his doors 2022,’ but… that would have just been facts.”

“Did you need something from your room?” Mark asks, following his friend towards Jaehyun and the stairwell.

“Yeah, all my school shit,” Jaehyun sighs again.

“Sucks to be you,” Haechan taunts.

It really does.

Thursday

While Jaehyun has been acting a little strange- and to be fair, Jungwoo had apologized profusely about locking him out of the room to fuck you two days before- it’s a complete shock when the point guard doesn’t show up to movie night.

Jungwoo had fucked up- Jaehyun had been forced to wait for his laptop, and had missed his first class, but… Jungwoo hadn’t realized Jaehyun even liked his first morning class on Tuesdays so…

He can’t put his finger on what’s upsetting his friend, and it’s been driving him up the wall.

Every time he’s asked, “are you mad at me?” or “are you jealous of me spending my time with Duck?” he’s been assured by Jaehyun that things are fine-

Too bad he knows Jaehyun’s a liar.

Jungwoo had thought that, if there was one certainty in their friendship outside of basketball, it was movie night. Even last week, when Jungwoo would have much rather been with you, he’d come to watch a film and be with his best friend-

This is the first time he or Jaehyun have missed a movie night in over a year, and Jungwoo can’t help the way he sends his roommate a few texts-

He’ll admit, he’s probably annoying the dude with a double, triple- quadruple text, but he can’t help himself.

And when his text goes unanswered for the twenty minutes leading up to the film, solidifying Jaehyun’s absence, Jungwoo decides to text someone he can count on.

You assure him that Jaehyun’s probably fine- you even walk Jungwoo through a number of reasons why his roommate might choose to skip a movie, and when you’ve calmed him down, Jungwoo invites you to come join him and his frat friends for a film.

After all, how can he be expected to get through a whole movie without cuddles?

Friday

There aren’t many games that conflict with frat parties, but tonight is one of those nights, and the stands are noticeably thinned out. While the frat generally comes to support the members on the team, when given the difficult decision between watching basketball and partying, many choose the latter.

But not you.

As soon as the team exits their changing room, a chorus of female screams erupt from the section that usually houses the frat, and Jaehyun finds you sitting there with a number of your friends, sporting their team colors.

Not only had you shown up, but you’d brought cheerleaders, and the thought makes Jaehyun’s whole body tingle with warmth.

Jungwoo claps a hand on Jaehyun’s back, flashing him a fond smile that says ‘Those are our fans’ and Jaehyun is more intent than ever to play the best game of his life.

The team kicks ass, with Jaehyun and Jungwoo working in sync in a way they haven’t for a few weeks, and when the final buzzer goes and the crowd erupts to celebrate their win, Jaehyun’s reminded that you’re there for Jungwoo, not for him.

He watches Jungwoo kiss you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around, announcing to the world ‘my good luck charm ducky baby!’ and if Jaehyun didn’t love his roommate so much, he’d have barfed at the sickly sweetness of it all… Or maybe from the jealousy.

But he’d never admit that to himself.

Sunday

“Swish!” Jungwoo yells loudly as Jaehyun makes a shot from the three-point line. The joy that fills him to see his friend doing well isn’t something he could ever fake, and when he takes the basketball to do a layup, Jaehyun releases his own sound of praise.

Jungwoo swears he could play ball with Jaehyun for a whole day and not get bored, although, distraction is another story.

You’ve been on his mind constantly, and Jungwoo hadn’t been able to help himself this morning. He’d told you the gymnasium he and Jaehyun would be at, and even now, he waits anxiously for your arrival.

You’d promised to come by for a short visit, and Jungwoo is as happy as ever to facilitate more bonding time between you and his roommate. The two of you will have to be comfortable with each other for Jungwoo’s life to continue to work smoothly- and there’s a sneaking suspicion growing in his heart that tells him Jae’s becoming jealous.

Sure, he’d joined you and Jungwoo for food documentaries, but this will be bonding on Jaehyun’s own turf- or court, if you will.

Jae’s never as relaxed as he is on a basketball court, and Jungwoo’s excited for you to experience this- to experience point guard Jaehyun without the added pressure of a game to win.

What Jungwoo isn’t expecting, as you enter the gym, is to be so distracted that as he calls “Duck!” he himself gets hit in the head with a ball thrown by Jaehyun.

Having never been on the receiving end of a headshot- having never been distracted in this way- Jungwoo allows himself to fall to the ground in shock.

“Dude!” Jaehyun exclaims, and before Jungwoo knows it, two people are looking down at him with concern.

The tall shooting guard can’t help the smile that works its way onto his lips.

“My people,” Jungwoo says wistfully, blinking up at you with a dopey expression.

“You gotta pay attention,” Jaehyun admonishes him, offering a hand to pull his friend back onto his feet.

“My attention was on duck- and less on ducking,” Jungwoo grins, rubbing at his cheek before turning his gaze fully to you. “You came!”

He picks you up in a hug that spins you off the ground, and you giggle while holding onto his strong shoulders.

“Of course I came!” you smile when he sets you down, “but I can only stay for a little while.”

“Really?” Jungwoo pouts, still not releasing you from his grip. “Are you sure you can’t come back to the frat and watch movies?”

“I’ve got a project to work on and I’m meeting friends, remember?”

“Yeah.” The tall puppy boy had been praying your plans would fall through, but he supposes he has to let you give your attention to your friends and studies sometimes. Jungwoo turns his gaze to his roommate. “You don’t mind that she’s stopping by for a bit, right?”

He knows there’s nothing Jaehyun can do about it now, and Jaehyun puts on a good face for you. It’s the most welcoming Jungwoo has seen his friend be to you- and it fills his heart with warmth while the three of you get settled on the court.

“Have you played around the world before?” Jaehyun asks, surprising Jungwoo in his initiative for choosing a non-combative game- or at least, a less intimidating choice than two on one. “It’s basically uh- taking turns making shots from different locations on the court.”

“You guys are gonna beat me so bad,” you laugh, but you accept the challenge all the same.

Talking you through how to make a shot is something that Jungwoo’s been dreaming about, and he enjoys standing behind you, hands settled on your waist to help be your guide.

“It’s all in the wrist too,” Jaehyun adds helpfully, another steady instructor for your attempts at making a hoop.

It’s no shock that Jaehyun and Jungwoo beat you at the game- no shock that the real competition is between them, but what is surprising, is the way that - in having you there - both men are less competitive against each other.

Jungwoo can tell Jaehyun is holding back, even just a little, allowing Jungwoo to be the star, to be the one that dazzles you.

Before Jungwoo even knows it, he’s won the game and you’re announcing that you have to head out to see your friends and work on your project.

The man who’s fallen for you over an insanely short period of time pulls you into a kiss that says ‘I never want to let you go.’

Watching you leave is hard, but Jungwoo manages, and after fifteen more minutes of one on one against Jae, the two basketball players hit the locker room.

“Thanks for letting me win in Around The World,” Jungwoo says, stripping his shirt from his body.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun kicks off his gym shoes, “your girl was there.”

“You don’t have to be nice just because Duck was around.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you can be yourself,” Jungwoo insists, leaning his shoulder against the locker to focus on his friend. “You get weird when Duck is around- and you missed frat movie night-”

“Being a third wheel can be rough,” Jaehyun states, refusing to meet Jungwoo’s eyes while he fishes his towel from his bag. “Makes me think I need my own girlfriend to even things out.”

“I don’t like any of the girls you date.” Jungwoo’s nose scrunches up in something like disgust as he goes through Jaehyun’s exes in his mind.

“We can’t all find a perfect girlfriend by throwing a basketball at her head you know.”

“I wasn’t even the one who threw it at her,” Jungwoo reminds his friend. “I was the one that was there to make sure she got up- that’s like… social skills, not basketball skills, which explains why you can’t get a good date.”

Jaehyun scoffs.

“I’m serious,” Jungwoo laughs, “you’re horrible at validating people, you have the emotional IQ of a porn-addicted teenager, you get way too tense anytime a good girl is around-”

“Watch it,” Jaehyun warns, but there’s no attempt to counter any of Jungwoo’s observations.

“You get weird as soon as a girl is around,” Jungwoo continues anyways, following his best friend towards the showers. “If you’d just be yourself- if you’d just… be like you are when it’s just us-”

“Then I’d get a girlfriend?” Jaehyun finishes with a laugh.

“Or maybe just some friends who happen to be girls. Those are nice too, Jae,” Jungwoo sighs. “Seriously, come hang out with me and Duck and work on your social skills, you’ll enjoy it once you get the stick out of your ass.”

“Since when am I the one of us with a stick up his ass?” Jaehyun retorts with a cheeky grin as he reaches to turn on his shower.

“See!? This is the kind of Jae people like,” Jungwoo grins, pushing at his friend. “The guy who makes bad jokes.”

“Wasn’t a joke- was a valid question,” Jaehyun joins in the laughter, slapping Jungwoo’s hand away from his shoulder.

“Come to movie night with me and Duck tomorrow,” Jungwoo insists, unwilling to relent on the subject until Jaehyun agrees.

“If I say yes, will you drop it and let me shower in peace?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Jaehyun sighs, “I’ll do movie night with you and Duck tomorrow.”

Monday

Jaehyun’s not sure what to expect for movie night.

He arrives back to the frat from classes before Jungwoo, and spends an hour or so just sitting in his room and going over possibilities.

The point guard is not expecting you and Jungwoo to arrive holding two boxes of pizza and a bag full of his favorite snacks.

Because of the shock of it all, Jaehyun’s reaction to it is less than impressive for Jungwoo, who tries to facilitate joy by dumping the bag of snacks onto his bed to announce “this is your favorite chips, and this is a box of those chocolates you like-”

Jaehyun finds it comical that Jungwoo feels the need to remind him of his own tastes, and when Jungwoo is done with his rant, Jaehyun takes a breath and thanks him properly.

“It was Duck’s idea,” Jungwoo says, another shock to Jaehyun’s system.

“I know Jungwoo talked you into movie night,” you explain bashfully, “so I wanted to make sure you at least had some food you like-”

“Hence, pizza!”

The cardboard box is flipped open excitedly, and the smell of pepperoni and greasy cheese perfumes the small room.

“We should watch our food show,” Jaehyun states, eying the pizza while his mouth begins to practically water.

“Somebody Feed Phil it is,” Jungwoo responds happily, glossing over the fact that Jaehyun had referred to it as ‘our show.’

But the diction isn’t lost on Jaehyun, who’s assessing his own words- the line that had slipped out of him and betrayed his blossoming sense of ownership over the show that makes all three of you laugh together.

He brushes it off.

Soon, you’re all seated on Jungwoo’s bed, with him in the middle and his computer on his lap.

It’s becoming easier and easier to get lost in the enjoyment of it, and one slice of pizza becomes two, becomes three-

Jaehyun can feel his muscles relaxing, can feel his body getting heavier and happier with each passing moment.

When Phil does something to make you giggle, Jaehyun finds himself laughing along with you- not because he’d found the interaction particularly funny per se- but because sharing joy with you and Jungwoo just feels right.

While Jaehyun’s aware that you’ve hit ‘next episode’ a number of times, it’s not until you begin to yawn that he checks the time, and all three of you are surprised to find it’s nearly midnight.

“Did we really just watch a whole season of this?” Jungwoo asks, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hands before stretching his arms above his head and yawning loudly.

“We’re gonna have to find a new show if we keep this up,” you muse from where you’re tucked against your boyfriend’s side.

On Jungwoo’s left, Jaehyun meets your eyes, and the two of you only hold the contact for a few seconds before looking elsewhere. Jaehyun sits up, doing a stretch of his own. “There are lots of shows to choose from,” he says, attempting to sound non chalant.

He can’t betray the excitement he feels to know you’re considering another show to watch- a sign that you see this continuing-

He could really get used to this.

There’d been a time when Jaehyun had worried about mooching off of Jungwoo’s romance, a time when he thought you and Jungwoo would prefer to be alone together, but with each interaction, he finds himself getting more comfortable being your third.

He’d hate to be a third wheel to a bike- but it’s starting to look like you and Jungwoo might be tricycle people.

The thought surprises Jaehyun, and as the three of you get settled in separate beds, the point guard takes it upon himself to listen to your breathing- making sure he’s the last of you to drift off into dreamland.

Tuesday

You wake up in a bed that’s starting to feel familiar, and the cock poking at your bum is definitely something you’re becoming accustomed to-

It makes you smile happily to yourself, but when you open your eyes, you’re sure to check on Jaehyun, who’s still fast asleep, before turning in Jungwoo’s arms to face him.

The large, beautiful man who you’ve fallen in love with is as gorgeous as ever- even while dreaming, and he makes small sounds, betraying the dirty content of his subconscious.

You start by slowly brushing your fingers past his cheek, and when that doesn’t wake him, you shuffle closer, leaning forward to ghost your lips by his neck-

Jungwoo practically jolts awake when you touch his sweet spot, and he releases a small groan, immediately wrapping you in his arms to pull you tightly to his chest.

“Woo,” you whisper, kissing the underside of his jaw.

“Ducky,” he moans, tangling his legs with your own-

It would be so easy to reach between your bodies, slip your hand under the waistband of his joggers, and grab his cock-

But with each sound of pleasure released by your gentle giant, you worry about waking Jae.

“Come shower with me,” you whisper instead, running your fingers through Jungwoo’s hair and massaging his scalp, something he adores you doing-

He releases a grunt, and then sighs, swallowing thickly; “Shower.”

Pulling away from Jungwoo makes him whiney, but he allows you to drag him to his feet, checking on Jaehyun one last time before grabbing towels and exiting the room.

In the hallway, you’re able to talk more without fear of waking Jungwoo’s roommate, and he immediately asks you, “what time is it?”

“Early,” you respond. “But I have class today, and I have to run home to grab things, so I thought we could have a shower now and I can see you tomorrow or something.”

“Yes, shower now,” Jungwoo agrees, rubbing at his eyes and following you to the communal bathroom.

You’re thankful that it’s early enough for the showers to be deserted, and the two of you tuck yourselves away in a stall, closing the curtain before helping each other strip.

It’s a giggled mess of hands - you tugging on Jungwoo’s pants while he wrestles with your shirt - but soon enough you’re both naked, lip-locked, and under the spray of warm water.

You’re eager to have him inside of you, eager to fuck this basketball god before any of his friends wake up and barge into the bathroom, and your lover is just as eager to get at you.

Jungwoo lifts you up, forcing your legs around his waist while he sits you onto his cock, filling you perfectly while his mouth muffles your moans.

Even after fucking like rabbits since you’ve met, you’re still not used to the size of his dick, and each drag against your inner walls has you clawing at his shoulders and kissing him like a woman who’s gone mad with need.

“Fuck, Duck,” he groans, fingers digging into your ass cheeks to hold you up while he fucks into you, “feels so good-”

Your only response is a whimpered “please-” and it prompts the sleepy man to fully snap out of his grogginess, releasing a growl of pleasure before fucking you harder-

In the back of your brain, there’s a constant siren going off, a siren that tells you anyone could walk into the communal bathroom- anyone could pull the shower curtain aside-

The added fear that comes with exhibitionism has your stomach twisting into pleasure knots before your brain can keep up with it, and your pussy clenches around the intrusion thrusting in and out of your core-

“Jungwoo-” you whine his name as you burry your face in his neck, teetering on the edge of orgasmic bliss-

“Fuck, please cum for me, come on Duck, cum-”

Your toes curl, your legs wrapping tightly around Jungwoo’s body, and the chord in the pit of your stomach snaps, allowing a release of euphoria that has you clinging to Jungwoo like a lifeline-

Jungwoo moans loudly in your ear, one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard, and you can feel him filling you with his cum, his hips shuddering with each slap of skin on skin-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he whimpers, squeezing you in his embrace, his lips eagerly seeking out your own.

As you both come down from your highs, Jungwoo’s thrusts come to a stop, and he simply holds you under the water spray while you catch your breaths.

When your thoughts come back as cohesive sentences, you ask him to set you down, and he helps you steady yourself on wobbly legs.

“Thanks for coming over last night- and thanks for cumming today,” Jungwoo whispers breathlessly- a joke that causes you both to erupt in a fit of giggles.

The shooting guard holds you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you shrug the whole thing off with a “don’t mention it.”

“I think Jae really liked having you over too,” he continues anyways, unrelenting once he goes down a thought spiral. “Haven’t seen him laugh like that in a while.”

“Phil is a funny guy,” you nod.

Jungwoo chuckles. “Wasn’t always Phil making Jae laugh,” he tells you. “I sort of think Jae likes you.”

“That’s good isn’t it?” you ask. “It’s important for your friends to like me.”

“Yeah but I mean-” Jungwoo swallows, looking down at you with a lopsided grin, “I think he sort of like likes you.”

You find yourself laughing at his choice of words, poking at his stomach while musing, “are we in kindergarten?”

Jungwoo wraps his arms around you even tighter. “Seriously- just think about it with me for a second,” he urges you. “I feel like… as much as none of us admit it, lots of us frat guys- we rely on each other for emotional stuff you know? So when I met you, and started prioritizing us, it’s kind of like I cheated on Jae, in some weird way.”

You consider his words, looking up at him and watching the way his pretty lips move when he speaks.

“Jae and I weren’t always super close,” he continues. “We worked on our friendship, and it took a lot for him to open up and be weird with me- having Jae close himself off when you and I met was kind of hard, you know?”

“Sounds like maybe you have a bit of a crush on Jae, Woo,” you tease, curious for his reaction.

Jungwoo simply chuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips before saying, “Maybe I do. How do you feel about that?”

“I feel like…” you choose your words carefully, “what you said about the emotional connection of frat boy roommates and basketball teammates makes a lot of sense. I also feel like… I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I guess I’m open to watching you grow and be happy.”

“I’m happy with you,” he states, kissing the tip of your nose lovingly.

“I’m happy with you too,” you respond with a smile.

“This is a lot to think about,” Jungwoo sighs, reaching behind you to turn the shower off, “and you have class soon, so maybe we should just think about this later.”

“Later works,” you agree.

“There’s a game on Thursday,” the tall basketball player notes, grabbing your towels so you can dry off, “when we win, we can celebrate and figure stuff out.”

You laugh, wrapping your towel around your body. “I love how confident you are that you’re going to win.”

Jungwoo scoffs. “With our cute little, observant, Ducky good luck charm, how could Jae and I lose?”

Thursday

Jaehyun can tell something is different with you and Jungwoo, and the way the two of you react when the team wins their basketball game is confirmation that something has changed. After you kiss Jungwoo to celebrate, Jaehyun finds himself being pulled into a three-way embrace, with Jungwoo as the main instigator.

Then, on the walk to the bar after the team had showered and changed into street clothes, oddly enough it’s you who walks between the two basketball players; Jungwoo no longer the center.

It’s as easy as ever to discuss the game in your little trio, all three of you talking excitedly about the three-pointers they’d shot, and the completed layups-

“I think it was your best game of the season,” you muse, offering Jaehyun a happy smile before you beam at your boyfriend, who throws an arm over your shoulders and tugs you close to his side.

“What did I tell ya?” Jungwoo grins. “The good luck, Duck charm strikes again.”

There’s some truth to the shooting guard’s words- Jaehyun would be lying if he said knowing you’re in the crowd doesn’t make him play better- play harder- play to impress-

Your group reaches the bar, and Jaehyun finds himself ordering drinks for the three of you, shoulder to shoulder with Johnny, who lists off beverages for their other friends.

“You played well,” the tall man from Chicago says, clapping Jaehyun on the back.

“Our good luck charm was there,” Jaehyun says before he can help himself.

“Who?” at first Johnny is confused, his eyes shifting past Jaehyun’s shoulder- “oh, right- that’s what Woo’s calling his girlfriend these days. You can’t give any credit to Duck though, you guys just played well.”

For some reason, the comment makes the point guard’s skin tingle with heat- with anger, and his fist clenches at his side. “Were you at our last game?”

“Uh, no? There was the frat party-”

“I know,” Jaehyun cuts Johnny off. “You weren’t there, Duck was. And she brought a bunch of friends to cheer us on, knowing our usual frat section would be nearly empty. Even coach mentioned how it was a boost of morale versus other home games where our friends choose partying over basketball.”

Johnny is quiet in the noise of the bar, dark eyes assessing Jaehyun. “You really like Duck, huh?”

Jaehyun groans, but even as he turns his attention to the three drinks recently placed in front of him, it’s clear as day that he prefers you and Jungwoo to all his other friends in the bar.

Without another word, Jaehyun picks up the beverages, leaving Johnny in favor of joining you and Jungwoo at the frat table where Haechan and Doyoung are having a lively debate-

Claiming the free space next to you, Jaehyun once again sandwiches you between him and Jungwoo, placing your drinks on the table.

“What are those?” Haechan asks, stopping his rant to blink at the cups of beer.

“Our drinks?” Jaehyun offers.

Haechan rolls his eyes. “But where are ours?”

“Johnny’s still getting them,” Jaehyun sighs, already tiring of Haechan’s antics.

“What in the preferential treatment-”

“You can have mine,” you offer, shocking all the men watching as you push your beer forward, “I can share with Woo-”

Three hands go to grab the beer, with Jungwoo and Jaehyun trying to take the drink back while Haechan attempts to lift it to his lips-

“You can’t drink her beer-” Jaehyun states while Jungwoo simply hits Haechan with an “aish, you idiot-”

“She gave it to me!” Haechan insists, getting rougher with his tugging-

“Stop it, you gremlin,” Johnny’s smooth powerful voice cuts up the tension as he arrives carrying a tray for the rest of the friends. “Leave these three alone,” he instructs, holding out a beer to Haechan, “here’s your drink.”

Haechan makes a big deal of scoffing and letting go of your glass, and he watches the three of you over the rim of his drink while he takes a massive gulp. “Preferential treatment,” he seethes under his breath.

Jaehyun sighs.

It would appear that he’s not the only one with some jealousy problems.

Only, Jaehyun’s jealousy has definitely gone down in the past few days- now he feels more… protective of the little trio you have going.

There’s never been a time where Jaehyun’s been at the bar wishing he was at home in his room instead, except- tonight, he’d much rather be watching a show with you and Jungwoo.

His win on the basketball court is practically forgotten- there’s no need to celebrate it- and if there is, the celebration would be much better with just the three of you and some takeout-

“Thank you for the beer,” you tell Jaehyun when Haechan’s calmed down a little, nudging your shoulder against his own and offering a smile that has the point guard’s heart lurching in his chest.

He has to clear his throat to tell you “don’t mention it,” and while he tries to be nonchalant, he can feel his ears heating from the small thank you.

“What are you guys saying?” Jungwoo leans closer, throwing his arm around you to huddle you tighter to Jae’s side.

“I just thanked him for the beer,” you explain.

“It’s too loud in here,” Jungwoo groans. “Wanna finish our drinks and head back to the frat?”

It’s a shock how in tune Jaehyun and Jungwoo are at times- and Jaehyun is flabbergasted that they’d both have the same urge to escape the very environment they so often thrive in after a game.

“Sounds good to me,” you respond, and then the two of you are looking at the point guard.

“You coming too, Jae?” Jungwoo asks.

He nods and then downs his drink.

Thursday

You’re not sure what to expect as you follow Jaehyun and Jungwoo into their frat house.

You know it’s going to be mostly deserted, as almost all of NCT house goes to the bar to celebrate after a basketball win, and the implications of that aren’t lost on you.

What Jungwoo had said in the shower two days ago has been on your mind constantly, and your heart races at the notion of having alone time with your boyfriend and Jaehyun.

Before your mind can go too deep down the sexual rabbit hole however, you’re faced with something unexpected: there are people in the kitchen.

You, Jaehyun and Jungwoo freeze, as do the two men, who seem to be in the middle of baking cookies- although, there’s flour in Mark’s hair, and a smear of something on the cheek of the other man-

“You guys are home!” Mark says, as still as a statue with his whisk in hand-

“No, you guys are home-” Jungwoo retorts in shock- “did you two sneak away from the bar?”

“Did you three sneak away from the bar?” now the white-haired man is echoing, with a sly grin on his face. He relaxes back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and eying you.

“Uh-” Mark looks like a dear in headlights, gaze flickering between you and his friend- “Duck, this is Yuta-”

“Hi Ducky,” Yuta holds up a hand, waving his fingers at you.

“Hi,” you offer meekly, grabbing onto Jungwoo’s arm to tuck closer to him-

“We’re uh-” Jungwoo swallows thickly, “we’re going to go watch some shows-”

“And we’re just baking some cookies,” Mark says pointedly, “just… baking some cookies.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, then Jungwoo clears his throat again. “It’s uh, some nice music you have on- you should maybe… turn it up?”

“What?” Mark’s jaw drops a little, and he looks between you, Jungwoo and Jaehyun.

“We can turn it up,” Yuta says, reaching for his phone. The rap music gets louder, and Yuta checks with Jungwoo “is this a good volume?”

“Perfect,” Jungwoo nods.

There’s another moment where no one speaks, and then Jaehyun says, “enjoy your baking.” He takes your hand, and begins to drag you and Jungwoo towards the stairs.

As you head up to the second level, Jungwoo starts giggling.

“What?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

“It’s just funny-” Jungwoo grins, “Mark and Yuta-”

“Mark did say he was getting laid the other day,” Jaehyun adds. “I thought he might be talking about that girl in his psych class, but I guess not.”

“Good for them though,” you say. “I think I saw them together the first time I came over for a frat party- they were standing really close to each other-”

What Jungwoo had said about ‘frat guys [relying] on each other for emotional stuff’ rings clear through your head again, and it warms your heart to know your little trio isn’t the only ‘unconventional’ pairing in the frathouse.

When you reach their room, Jungwoo locks the door, and Jaehyun moves to grab the laptop.

“Jae- what are you doing?” Jungwoo asks, leaning back against the door with a grin.

“Getting the laptop so we can watch our show?” Jaehyun suggests.

You and Jungwoo exchange glances, and your heart melts again at the innocence of Jaehyun-

Jungwoo had been a little flirty on your walk back to the frat, but obviously his friend hadn’t picked up on any of it.

It’s clear to you that you’re going to have to be direct and upfront with Jaehyun-

You adore how unassuming he is.

Jungwoo had straight up told Mark and Yuta to make their music louder- which to you, would be an obvious indicator towards the three of you intending to loudly fuck each other- but Jae seems oblivious to it-

“We didn’t come back here to watch a show,” Jungwoo states.

There it is.

“Huh?” Jaehyun puts the laptop back down, turning to face you both with a confused expression.

“I said,” Jungwoo pulls you to his chest, locking you in an embrace, “we didn’t come back here to watch a show. But I mean- if you want to watch a show, I guess we can watch a show-”

There’s a moment of quiet, rap music thumps loudly from downstairs, and you find your skin heating with anxiety. You turn to cling to your boyfriend, burying your face against his chest, “you have to be straight with him.”

“I’m never straight with him,” Jungwoo teases, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but a moment later his attention is back on his friend. “Look, Ducky and I like you Jae- I didn’t realize how much I liked you until this one started making you jealous,” he squeezes you fondly. “We talked about it, and we both agreed it would be nice to let you join- if you wanted to. But if you just wanna sit and watch our show- that’s fine too.”

You hug Jungwoo tightly, unable to face Jae-

You wait with your breath held for him to respond.

“You both agreed?” Jaehyun says finally.

“Uh huh, Ducky is being shy,” Jungwoo looks down at you, “but she wants this, don’t you, Ducky?”

You nod.

“Don’t just nod,” Jungwoo laughs, turning you around in his embrace to face his roommate, “tell Jae you want him too.”

“He hasn’t said he wants me, yet,” you point out, frowning a little-

“Of course he wants you, look at him,” Jungwoo’s hands find your hips, and the two of you assess Jaehyun together. “Tell him you want him, and I bet he’ll snap.”

You swallow thickly, mustering up the courage to be honest.

It’s a shock how okay with this Jungwoo is- as much as you’d discussed Jaehyun joining your bedroom activities, part of you had thought maybe - when faced with the situation - Jungwoo might change his mind.

If anything, Jungwoo’s all in, and you can feel his cock stiffening by your bum-

He must really enjoy this- the push-pull, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife-

“Jae-” you say, your voice cracking-

You needn’t say more, because in two steps, Jaehyun’s in front of you, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your own.

You can’t help the way your body melts into the kiss, your own hands reaching for the front of Jaehyun’s shirt to pull him closer-

With a small groan, Jaehyun concedes, pinning you between him and Jungwoo while his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entrance-

Your body responds without a second thought, your mouth opening to allow Jaehyun’s tongue to glide past your own, earning mirrored sounds of pleasure from you both-

Behind you, Jungwoo presses even tighter to your ass, rutting against you while his hand slips down the front of your torso, toying with the button of your jeans-

When Jungwoo’s lips press to your neck, you shiver, releasing a whimpered sound that has both men grinning against you.

“Feels good?” Jaehyun asks, breaking the kiss to pinch your chin.

You force your eyes open to look at him, managing a small nod while you reach behind you in an attempt to pull Jungwoo even closer-

“You and your little nods,” Jaehyun chuckles, eyes twinkling with adoration while his thumb brushes by your cheekbone.

“She’s gonna speak up for us,” Jungwoo promises at your rear, “isn’t that right, Ducky?”

You nod, biting at your lip before saying “uh huh-”

You’re eager to be kissing Jaehyun again, and it’s torture having him so close but still so far-

“Needy ducky,” Jaehyun coos, thumb brushing across your lip-

He leans in to kiss you, allowing you to be distracted again while the two men continue to explore you with their hands.

Jungwoo’s gotten your top button undone, and he’s wrestling with your zipper now. Meanwhile, Jaehyun’s spare hand braces your rib cage, fingers toying with the underwire of your bra, concealed by your shirt.

The two men work so well together- it’s shocking how in sync they can be, both of them pulling away from you at the same time to remove your shirt and pants-

“Bed,” Jungwoo says as he nearly trips you while tugging your jeans away from your feet-

“Mine or yours?” comes Jaehyun’s response.

“Doesn’t matter.”

It really doesn’t- and you find yourself being tossed onto Jungwoo’s bed a moment later.

You scramble a little, feeling exposed in your bra and panties while the two basketball players look down at your form.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Jungwoo grins, reaching out to toy his fingers up your shin.

“Gorgeous,” Jaehyun agrees, swallowing thickly. “How are we going to do this?”

“I don’t know,” your boyfriend cocks his head to the side. “What are you feeling, Ducky?”

Part of you had been expecting to just lay back and take what they give you- you’d been ready to accept practically anything- but now that you’re being put on the spot, now that your wants are being recognized specifically-

There’s a voice in your mind telling you to go all the way- to try being stuffed by both in the most intimate way possible- but as someone without much experience in threesomes, you think maybe it’s a good idea to start with something less intrusive.

Licking your lips, you realize; “I want to suck off Jae while you fuck me.”

Both men let out small groans of satisfaction, and Jungwoo whispers the phrase “spit roasing” before ripping off his shirt and prompting you to “get on your hands and knees please, Ducky baby.”

“Should I-” Jaehyun takes a step forward, “should I get on the bed?”

“Up to you- you could stand, or you could kneel on the bed, I don’t think it really matters,” Jungwoo responds. “What do you think, Duck?”

“On the bed,” you suggest, shifting on your knees so you’re facing the head of Jungwoo’s mattress. You pat the spot in front of you, offering Jaehyun a smile of reassurance.

The bed dips as Jungwoo gets onto the foot of it, and then his large hands are cupping your hips, pulling you back and up, into a doggy-like position that gives him easy access to your core.

Your boyfriend begins to massage your ass, and you would bet he’s watching Jaehyun as he gets settled on his knees in front of you.

You both go for his belt a the same time, and you feel your skin heat with embarrassment-

“Jae,” Jungwoo’s smooth voice sounds from your rear, “Ducky does best when you tell her what to do. Praise her a little.”

Jaehyun looks down at you with as serious an expression as ever, but then he visibly softens. “Do you wanna undo my belt?” he asks.

You nod eagerly, hand flying up to start the task-

“Ducky, I told you to speak up too, didn’t I?” Jungwoo questions, kneading your ass gently with his large, warm hands.

“No nodding,” Jaehyun agrees, “you did mention that.”

“Sorry,” you breathe, unbuttoning Jaehyun’s pants.

“It’s okay,” Jungwoo presses a kiss to your bum, and you can feel his breath fan over your pussy even through the panties that he gingerly pulls to the side-

He licks a stripe of your core, pressing his tongue between your folds-

Then his thumb finds your clit, and you release a moan, faltering with Jaehyun’s zipper-

“She likes that,” Jaehyun breathes above you. “Don’t you Duck?”

“Yes Jae,” you force out, hooking your fingers in his jeans to begin to tug them down, “he always feels so good-”

“I bet he does,” the point guard swallows thickly, reaching down to capture your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You two are a great couple.”

You blink at him.

Out of all the praise he could have given you- and he’d chosen to draw attention to both you and Jungwoo, who releases a groan of satisfaction, smiling against your pussy-

“Thank you, Jae,” you respond, remembering to be vocal.

He grins down at you, pinching your chin in an affectionate way before retracting his hand. “Do you guys have a system for when your mouth is full?” he asks next.

Jungwoo chuckles against you- he’s not the type for ‘systems’ when it comes to sex. He doesn’t even bother to get into it, pushing his tongue into your pussy, lapping at your walls while his thumb rubs your clit in gentle circles.

“We could-” your breath catches when Jungwoo presses harder on your sensitive bud, “one tap for yes, two for no and stop?”

“That works,” Jaehyun nods. “Are you both sure you want to do this?”

“Jae-” Jungwoo sighs loudly from behind you, snickering, “she told you she wants you in her mouth- stop talking and just do it.”

You find yourself smiling at your boyfriend’s antics, and Jaehyun obviously takes your smile as confirmation to follow through, so he shifts his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free.

For a millisecond- you’re taken aback by how pretty Jaehyun’s dick is.

It shouldn’t be a surprise- after all, the rest of him is utterly gorgeous.

He’s not as big as Jungwoo, who probably is the owner of the biggest cock you’ve ever had inside of you, but he has a pretty curvature to him-

Wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, you guide Jaehyun to your mouth, caressing him with your tongue.

The beautiful man releases a groan that goes straight to your core- which, coincidently, Jungwoo pulls away from.

You whine around Jaehyun, and his hips shudder, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

Behind you, Jungwoo’s hooked his fingers in your panties again, and he’s tugging them down your thighs, allowing them to catch at your knees.

You know what’s coming, and you push your ass back towards your lover, giving it a small wiggle of invitation.

“Pretty baby,” Jungwoo coos, one hand massaging your ass, spreading you open for him-

Jaehyun pulls out of your mouth suddenly, and at the same time, Jungwoo drags you back, impaling you on his cock and filling you deliciously, your walls stretching to accommodate his massive length-

A strangled moan slips out of you, a string of saliva keeping you connected to the cock that’s pushed between your lips again, nearly making you choke as you struggle to breathe in through your nose.

You’re truly being spit-roasted.

There are two dicks inside of you- two men on either end of your body, one in your pussy, one in your mouth- and it feels glorious.

You hardly know where to focus, and when Jungwoo says “that’s our good ducky” your entire body practically sings with energy and delight.

“So good,” Jaehyun agrees with a grunt, finding a pace to match Jungwoo’s that allows him to push into you every time Jungwoo moves to pull away-

“Duck’s gonna cum,” Jungwoo announces, fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you harder.

“Do you make her-” the point guard is cut off by a groan, “do you make her ask permission?”

“Of course not,” Jungwoo laughs, “we just make her cum.”

Your boyfriend reaches a hand around your body, fingers finding your clit, and you moan loudly around Jaehyun, who pulls out of your mouth-

You take in a strangled breath, begging “please-” as Jungwoo works you over the edge, fucking into you and rubbing at your clit while you whimper and moan, forehead pressed against Jaehyun’s thigh-

In your periphery, you can see the point guard has his hand wrapped around his cock, and he’s pumping himself to the sounds of you cumming, giving you free rein to fill the room with your pretty moans-

“She sounds so good-” Jaehyun groans, prompting you to eagerly go for his cock again-

You need something to suck on, something to pacify you instead of allowing Jungwoo to throw you into overstimulation-

As you come down from your orgasm, Jungwoo relents on your clit. Instead, he goes for the back of your bra, where he undoes the clasp and allows it to fall free.

Then his large hands are cupping your breasts, kneading you affectionately while he leans over your back, gasping against your shoulder-

He must be close too.

In fact, you’re a little shocked your orgasm hadn’t prompted his own-

Jungwoo is king of ‘when you cum, I cum’ so you think he must be holding out today, must be trying really hard to prolong this whole thing, to make it count.

“Fuck- I think I’m close too-” Jaehyun admits above you, and you swear Jungwoo makes a sound of relief.

“Me too,” he echos, straightening again, hands finding your hips to anchor you to his thrusts.

“But I don’t want to-” Jaehyun groans, swallowing thickly, “don’t want to cum unless she cums again.”

“We can make that happen,” Jungwoo promises. “If I rub her clit again, and you go a little harder-”

The man with his dick in your mouth laughs. “Go harder?”

“Uh huh,” Jungwoo grunts, reaching around your body for your clit. “If you deep-throat her- she’ll cum really hard.”

“She likes choking?” Jaehyun asks- you can tell he’s been trying to be sensitive with you, not pushing too deep into your mouth for fear of hurting you- but now he has the go-ahead, and when he thrusts into you, hitting the back of your throat, your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure.

“Fuck- she squeezes so tight when you do that-” Jungwoo pants, rubbing your clit vigorously-

“Yeah?” Jaehyun breathes. “What a good fucking Ducky-”

“So good-” Jungwoo agrees. “Come on duck, cum for us- you know you want to. Be good and cum, it will feel so nice, I promise-”

The way your boyfriend is babbling betrays how close he is to cumming, and as Jae repeatedly thrusts into your throat, you find yourself teetering on the edge again.

“That’s it-” Jungwoo groans, “let go for us Duck, come on, please-”

Your core tightens around Jungwoo for the second time, orgasm slamming into you like nothing you’ve ever experienced-

“Fuck, fuck- where should I cum-” Jaehyun asks, hips shuddering-

“Her mouth-” Jungwoo responds, pushing fully into you before he releases his own load, painting your inner walls while he groans in ecstasy-

Jaehyun cums a moment later, driving his cock as deep down your throat as he can-

It’s almost too much, being completely filled by them both in this way, and you have to focus hard on breathing through your nose while your pussy thrums with pleasure, body electrified from your orgasm.

Then Jaehyun’s pulling out of your mouth, and you can finally take a deep gasp of air, sputtering and moaning and whimpering, nearly collapsing face first into the bed while Jungwoo continues to shallowly rut into your core, riding out his orgasm to completion.

“Holy fuck-” Jaehyun groans, earning exhausted chuckles from both you and your lover, who finally comes to a stop at your rear.

“You can say that again,” Jungwoo laughs, both his hands smoothing across your bum and lower back. “Stay still Ducky, I’m going to grab something to clean you up.”

“I can grab it,” the point guard in front of you pulls up his pants and gets off the bed easier than you or your boyfriend could, and he grabs some tissues from the nightstand next to his bed.

“No, get the wet wipes,” Jungwoo insists, pointing at his backpack, “outside pocket.”

“Haechan always made fun of you for being a neat freak and having these-” Jaehyun says with a laugh, leaning down to get the wipes. “But I guess the joke was on him.”

“Clean sex is safe sex,” Jungwoo grins behind you, accepting the wetwipes thrown his way. “Usually Ducky likes shower sex actually- it makes clean up easier.”

“She does, does she?” Jaehyun kneels next to the bed, getting eye level with you. He reaches out and pushes some of the hair out of your face. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yes, Jae.”

Jungwoo wipes the cum starting to dribble out of your core, and you hear him swallow thickly. “You know… maybe we should go to the shower.”

“Did you make that much of a mess?” Jaehyun laughs.

“Yes.”

The two men exchange a glance.

You’d thought Jungwoo’s sex drive alone was high-

You’re starting to realize, with both of them together, with two basketball-playing frat boy roommates to feed off of each other’s energies- well, put simply; you’re in for a lot; and you couldn’t be happier about it.

“Shower later,” you find yourself saying, pulling away from Jungwoo now that he’s done cleaning you up. You roll onto your back, stretching your arms above your head- “I just want some cuddles, and to watch our show.”

“Were you thinking of feeding Phil while we were fucking you?” Jungwoo teases, pushing at your leg and laughing.

You hardly think you need to respond, because it’s a ridiculous question. But when you look at Jaehyun, you see that he needs an answer, so you assure both men “I had no thoughts but wow this is nice.”

“It is nice,” Jungwoo agrees, collapsing onto the bed next to you and curling his body against your back, effectively turning you into his small spoon. “Come on Jae,” he says next, patting the space in front of you, “come be the tiniest spoon.”

Part of you is shocked at how willingly Jaehyun submits to the request, grabbing the laptop before settling in front of you.

You tug the point guard back by his hip, sandwiching yourself between the two warm bodies while Jaehyun gets the show started, setting it on the bedside table where you can all see.

“Are you both sure this is okay?” he asks, fingers hovering over the start button.

“Jae,” Jungwoo groans behind you, reaching over your body to pull Jaehyun even tighter to you, “quit worrying so much.”

Jungwoo has more than enough easy confidence for all three of you.

You’re glad to be sharing Jungwoo with Jaehyun, who obviously needed his roommate back, and as the three of you settle in to watching your show, you allow yourself to be enveloped in peace and ease.

How could you ask for anything else?

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I know this is a new pairing on my blog, but i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. Now you're truly sandwiched, both holes filled perfectly, and the moans of pleasure you all release into the echoey shower room make your skin tingle with exhibitionistic delight.-

cw/ tw. threesome, exhibitionism, double penetration, anal, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), praise, spit as lube, etc... I pet names. ducky :)

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring. jaehyun & jungwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

Dressed in black - non regulation - shorts, and his red jersey, snapback atop his head- Jaehyun is one of the prettiest guys on the whole university basketball team. Most girls would be intimidated to be up against him on the court- only, you have another one of the most attractive varsity athletes behind you too-

Jungwoo’s hands snake around your waist, and he easily lifts you while sidestepping, putting his large form between you and Jaehyun so you can access the basketball net-

“You guys are cheaters,” Jaehyun says with a sigh. He’s lost count of the score by now-

“Cheaters!” Jungwoo gasps in shock, capturing you in his arms and pinning you back to his chest- he turns you to face his roommate. “Us? Cheat on you? How could you say such a thing, Jae?”

The basketball player rolls his eyes at his roommate’s antics- “let’s switch teams.”

“You know what? Good idea.” Jungwoo releases you shockingly fast- turning you so he can eye you with a smile. “Duck, it can be you versus me and Jae- first one to the locker room wins.”

“You’re insatiable,” you tell him, returning his grin as he pulls you in for one last shockingly chaste kiss- before you dart away, eager to be first to the lockers.

He’s done this a few times now; taken you to ‘play some basketball’ only to quickly bore of it and move you to the privacy of the lockers instead-

Your boyfriends know the court schedule like the backs of their hands- and they know that no one is going to be around for 45 minutes or so- when the janitor will hit this as the final gym to lock up before closing.

You enjoy the controlled exhibitionism of it all- technically, anyone could walk in.

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oceantornadoo · 12 days

Note

hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.

im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!

bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)

you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.

that explains a lot.

and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)

"evenin', duckie."

"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."

john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.

"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.

"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.

"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...

"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."

"anythin' for you, duckie."

list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner

shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.

"all ok, john?"

"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.

"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.

"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.

"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."

"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.

"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.

30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?

john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.

that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.

john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.

"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.

you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.

"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.

"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."

ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.

#john price #price #cod price #captain john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #price imagine #price headcanons #price one shot #john price x you #captain johnathan price #john price x y/n #tornadothoughts

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jungle-angel · 22 days

Text

Our Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are preparing for your little one's arrival and already, shenanigans have ensued

Warnings: Pregnancy, parenthood, Auggie being a menace etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @callmemana @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia and the lovely @bradshawsbaby my darling, I leave this as a little gift for you 🥰🥰🥰🥰

It was one of those gloriously warm spring days in Montana when all the flowers were in bloom, the windows of the house open to let in the breeze and the birds singing. The lilacs and the crape myrtles that you and Bob had planted after your wedding several years before had fully bloomed already, releasing their heady scents and causing more than a few sneezing fits.

Bob hummed a little as he organized the bookshelf in the corner of the nursery, right next to the rocking chair. Already Meemaw and Papa had sent over an old box of books that had been his when he was a baby, each one carefully picked with all the love in the world and inscribed with his date of birth and a message from Meemaw and Papa.

"Whatcha got Bob?" you asked folding one of the little blue onesies to put in the laundry.

"All the books that were mine when I was a baby," he answered. "Got Baby's Good Morning Book, Baby's Bedtime Book, Baby's Story Book, the Christmas Stories, Child's Story Book, Child's Fairy Tale Book, Peter Rabbit and.......looks like Winnie The Pooh too."

You couldn't help but ooh and aah over the books and their illustrations. You wished you could have a few of them to hang on the walls.

"Hey!" chirped a little toddler voice. "Get out me swamp!!"

You and Bob laughed when you saw Auggie running to the door with the kitchen broom as soon as the doorbell rang, when who should enter but Jake Seresin himself, greeted by his godson wielding a broom.

"Bob! I think Shrek's at it again!" Jake announced. "He's chasing me out of his swamp!"

"You're the one who had to show him that movie," Bob informed him.

Jake rolled his eyes as Auggie laughed and hugged his leg, hanging on for dear life and giggling like crazy as Jake lifted one leg and then the other.

"How goes Mommas?" Jake said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Good, save for the fact that my husband is right there watching you," you chuckled.

"Hey it's called being courteous, it's technically not flirting," Jake explained.

"Although Natasha might disagree."

Jake made a noise that caught in his throat, his hand moving quickly to protectively cup his denim clad scrotum.

"That's what we thought," Bob said with a shit eating grin.

Jake gathered up Auggie to go and cause havoc elsewhere for the day, leaving you and Bob to finish putting together the nursery. You unpacked all the baby clothes, blankets, shoes and other things your family and friends had sent you over the last few months including adorable little bunnies, puppies, bears, elephants and duckies for your little boy.

"Oh remember this?" you laughed, unfolding one of the blankets from the box.

"Oh, my Uncle Red's wife made that years ago," Bob cooed, holding up the little ducky quilt. "I used to sleep with it every night and Mom had to wrestle it away just to wash it."

You and Bob shared a few laughs as you kept organizing and putting everything together. Outside, you could see two mountain bluebirds in the nest they had made in the crape myrtle, wondering if there were any eggs due to hatch. Already the chicks had begun to hatch while there were more horse and cow births happening at least twice a week. The bunnies too had been hard at work, their numbers multiplying in the last few weeks as well.

"Oof," you breathed, feeling your baby kick. "Oh I know little guy, you're ready."

Bob helped you up from where you had been sitting, letting you lean against him as his hand rested gently on your belly. "Did he drop?" he asked.

You nodded.

Bob smiled broadly as he knelt to kiss your bump. "Now you wait a minute mister," Bob chuckled. "There's still some things we need to get ready for you."

You laughed as Bob pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. He wasn't wrong. Even though you were days away from giving birth, there were still so many things to do in such a tiny time frame.

The next few days were spent prepping the house and finishing the nursery. The laundry and the last of your knitting went smoothly although your cats would have said otherwise. Bluey and Echo, Bob's two blue-heelers, had taken to fetching the oddest things from the other rooms which led to an odd assortment of everything piling up in the living room. But you wouldn't have had it any other way.

At last, the day had come, a warm and calm night when you woke up suddenly after your water broke unexpectedly. Jake and Natasha came to take Auggie back to their place for a while, while your midwife came to the house to help. Bob stayed with you the whole time, just as he had done with Auggie, letting you squeeze his hand as you relaxed in the warm bath.

At long last, on June 1st, at 1:30 in the morning, your sweet little boy, Patrick Lewis Floyd, was born; sharing a birthday with Bob's father Joe. As soon as you were back in yours and Bob's shared bed, he snapped a few photos and sent them to his parents, siblings and the Daggers. It's not long before his phone is flooded with messages, all from the proud aunts, uncles and grandparents of your new little boy.

Joe and Irene, Bob's parents, are proud as ever of their grandson and of you both, more so now that Joe can joke about Patrick being his birthday present for that year. His Meemaw and Papa are all too proud to be great-grandparents again, all of them offering to come by and help with whatever is needed.

You and Bob wake later the next day at the sound of Patrick's fussing in the little bedside bassinet, Bob carefully lifting him into his arms and bringing him to the window to hear the birds singing. Patrick calms right down as soon as he's heard the birds sing and as soon as he's latched onto you to feed.

And when you and Bob are snuggled in your shared bed with Auggie coming in to see his new baby brother, you are both overjoyed and happy at the little nest you've built together.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader

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bigfatbimbo · 27 days

Note

I’ve been sitting on these fluff headcanons for awhile and idk how ‘in character’ they are but I mean pfft it makes my heart happy so—

Lucifer goes to sleep and wakes up clinging to you. Someone already left him seemingly all of a sudden so he’s scared you will to. Every night and morning though, you give him a kiss and a ‘love you’ which melts his worries away. I can imagine he’d like getting his face cradled while getting baby talked to adoringly. He may pretend to dislike it but that smile is just a dead give away and makes you wanna do it more. Like—

“My widdle ducky wucky kingy wingy~ so cute, so loving, so perfect, mwah~!” Kisses where his nose would be and he’s just like, putty in your hands.

Probably has made many different duck variants of you and him together. Like here’s one of you guys when you first met, on your first date, when you first said ‘I love you’ to each other, when you moved in, made a set of 3 of the two of you and Charlie, and may or may not be keeping some white fabric laying around for when you guys get married, ect

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I got a lot of fluffy headcanons as I exist for nothing but fluff and sweetness but I don’t wanna go on too long so here’s a little bit of fluff headcanons with Lute;

When you’re out shopping together, she will buy anything you show interest in—even for the littlest amount of time. Like you could be rubbing your finger on a soft blanket, mutter about how “nice and soft it is”, and when you walk down the next aisle Lute is already grabbing it to buy it.

Jealous Lute will stretch a wing very quick and defensively in between you and whomevers hitting on you or interrupting your moment together.

As for rival Lute x sinner!reader; reader tossed a little thing to Lute before the extermination ends and the angels are called back to heaven—it could be anything small like a little paper weight that looks like a bird—and she kept it. Keeps it on her when she trains to fight you next year. It’s not a good luck charm or anything, pfft, of course not—it’s uhhhh reminder that you’re her enemy and this just motivates her!

I LOVE THESE SO MUCH YOUR A SAINT FOR DOING MY BABIES LUTE ANND LUCIFER??????

#hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer headcanons #lute x reader #lucifer x reader

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melancholysway · 10 months

Text

Raphael's Green Flags and Positive Traits

haha im back LMAO

Although he's impulsive, he always does impulsive things for you AND with you if you're down!

As in, impulsively comes over or makes you something

(2007 raph fans) Gets a helmet for you to use whenever he takes you on a bike ride- yes he's a rebel, but a safe one xoxo

Uses touch as a love language. You'll know how he feels about you from the way he's touching you (cuddling, hugging, etc)

honestly...VERY funny! Since he's blunt, his intrusive thoughts usually take over and he says some of the most out of pocket shit that comes to mind

I HC that Raph is the easiest to make laugh after Mikey (though he usually laughs AT people, not with them), and since he's also really funny, you get a boyfriend and a comedian all in one!

Is somehow magically always there when you need a hand with something or need a strong, red-banded turtle to lift something

If you workout with him, he's always hyping you up! No matter where you start with weights, he's your biggest fan!

(also 2007 raph lovies) looks out for you a lot for the smallest things, if you're clumsy, he's already moving something out of the way just so you won't trip

In addition to the above positive trait, he's always warning you for any kind of minor danger (as in, "it's hot," or "hold onto me, okay? we're gonna go faster down the street")

Speaking of his motorcycle, always has you sitting in the front of him, it's safer that way

very, VERY gentle with you, he's thinks he's gonna break you because of his size, so he's always gentle with you

Sporatic king- unlike Leo and Donnie, he's always down for a random date night or bike ride with you!

Makes time in his sleep schedule to spend time with you, I HC that the turtles usually sleep a lot during the day if they're out on patrol all night, so it's hard for them to see their S/O and match their sleep schedule

Takes your plate away to wash when you're finished eating. Doesn't matter where or which brother snickers at him for being so out of character, he's a gentleman!

waits for you to go to sleep first before doing the same- or at least, makes sure you're comfortable and satisfied with the sleeping position before going to sleep himself

will sleep in the most awkward position just so you're comfy idc

easily picks up on your mood from what you say, but not so much from your body language (opposite of Leo!)

// Taglist: @bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside @xnorthstar3x @miss-andromeda Masterlist D I S C O R D

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphael #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raph #rise raph #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2007 #tmnt imagines #tmnt x reader #tmnt fanfiction #melancholysway

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pettydollie · 5 months

Text

♡☆ chris sturniolo masterlist ♡.｡.:*

chris sturniolo

mini masterlists dad!au zach sang show singer!reader

thoughts [0-100 words] him dancing w u - wc: 78 do you still like me? - wc: 86 massages - wc: 44 why think when you can speak - wc: 45 trevor resting on ur stomach (preggo!reader) - wc: 39 goofies - wc: 78 doodling - wc: 66 fresh love photoshoot - wc: 93 bsf chris who hates ur bf chris running to u when he's abt to cry - wc: 84 reading to him :C - wc: 67 get away from me, baby! - wc: 84 chris' reposts (definition of "dont let them know your next move") - wc: 48 big belch - wc: 89 nick bagging chris’ girl drabbles [100-500 words] "my gf" summary: i think chris loves his gf take care - wc: 498 summary: tending to chris' wounds after a fight bruised - wc: 306 summary: you hit ur hand :( lowk inspired by that one scene in little women (2019) first date - wc: 475 summary: title - chris is just too cute you're all annoying - wc: 333 summary: clip from wednesday's (1/31) video unreal - wc: 440 summary: chris feels so unreal, you take it in as he lays next to you spit in my mouth! (vday special) - wc: 216 summary: playing 'try not to laugh at vday pickup lines with water in your mouth' boop 💋 - wc: 390 summary: chris loves betty boop so you decide to dress up as her as a little treat photography field - wc: 353 summary: making out with chris in a plains field lol giggly night - wc: 118 summary: chris makes you laugh in the middle of the night and he attempts to stifle your giggles but ultimately fails lol planning your future - wc: 292 summary: title skater!bf chris - wc: 290 summary: hanging out in an indoor parking lot how u met the triplets - wc: 210 summary: title (ft when u started liking chris) ur mad at him >:c (not really) - wc: 280 summary: you try to be mad at chris bcs u never are lol learning how to braid ur hair - wc: 161 summary: title and showing off ab it pussy - wc: 113 summary: nick and matt betting on your guys' relationship honey - wc: 349 summary: you get your wisdom teeth taken out and forget that chris is your boyfriend when he calls you 'honey' burgers - wc: 117 summary: chris makes delicious burgers thats all lol ditching chris for marylou <3 - wc: 113 summary: you were going to learn how to play fortnite but mary calls and you love her like a second mother so ofc u pick her soda?... - wc: 303 summary: shrek's three babies the triplets come into your room where you're taking a nap, asking if you wanna do the soda challenge for today's video. you dont even drink soda... feeding the ducks - wc: 306 summary: chris sturniolo is a stressed man, but he doesn't feel so when he watches you feed the duckies. kissing the tears away - wc: 112 summary: chris loving his little crybaby by kissing her tears all gone (and licking one)

oneshots [500-2k words] happy bday, cutie!! - wc: 651 summary: your friends and boyfriend surprise you c: reader on her period - wc: 654 summary: triplets are filming and ur hungry (ft a lizard mutant) crybaby - wc: 798 summary: this was such a random post anyways reader is a crybaby and gets really frustrated with bsf!chris- good girl - wc: 1.1k summary: crybaby&tutor!reader x whipped!chris bingo - wc: 522 summary: chris putting your little sister to bed boyfriend best friend - wc: 1.5k summary: your best friend chris doesn't understand boundaries, but neither do you. sometimes he feels more like a boyfriend than your actual bf. pretty please? (NSFW) - wc: 1.3k summary: you've been waiting for your boyfriend to come home all day. you're too impatient for him when he gets home.

fics ᴅᴀʏʟɪɢʜᴛ masterlist

headcanons bf headcanons singer!reader x chris gf with an oral fixation, more tall!gf short!gf long distance gf 'shy around others but comfy around him' gf

texts bf!chris

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #y/n #reader #masterlist #chris sturniolo masterlist #𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓸 #𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✧˚ · .

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buckrecs · 1 year

Note

Okay here I am!! Hehe

Bartender bucky?? If you’re still willing to that is<33:)

Bartender!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

My Blood Turns Into Alcohol by @ltbarnes

Bucky Barnes doesn’t step out behind his trusted bar counter, no matter what goes on out on the floor. Until you, that is—the town newbie who stumbles inside the lanky old bar and won’t stop showing up in your pretty dresses and with that shy smile. Bucky is infuriated. Maybe that’s why he won’t let you pay for even one of your drinks, or why his coworkers won’t stop bothering him about you.

Double Blind by @wkemeup

Set up on what might be the worst blind date you’d ever been on, you find yourself captivated by the mysterious bartender instead.

the bar rules by @buckyhoney

pretty by @buckycuddlebuddy

“filthiest i’ve ever made,” he whispered, face very close to yours. “if you can handle it, i might take you up on that ‘convincing’ thing.”

Send Me An Angel by @navybrat817

Bucky thinks you're an angel.

Date With Ducky by @pepperonijem

"You started to water down my drink throughout the night and I drunkenly demand to know why.”

Two Years by @metalbuckaroo

Seeing you flirt with someone else, Bucky gets jealous and acts on something he’s been thinking of for two years.

Rum and Coke by @babyboibucky

You decide to pay your rival club a visit to see what the hype is all about.

Champagne Problems by @dollslayer

When your ex-boyfriend makes a surprise appearance at your sister's wedding you find help from an unexpected source.

side bar by @agentofkrypton

"I hate your voice, but god I love hearing you beg."

Don’t cross the bar by @bucky-at-bedtime

Bucky has one rule, until one day, someone forces him to change it.

Cheers! by @moonbeambucky

A charming bartender comes to your rescue after a night out leads to a broken heart.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bartender!bucky #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bartender!bucky x reader #bucky barnes modern au #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes x reader

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year

Text

Polaroids & Promises

When your mother had first met your boyfriend, she had made two very astute observations: He was incredibly distinguished (read: much older than she’d expected) and he was definitely a heartbreaker. At the time she’d meant the latter as a testament to his devilishly good looks, but her statement had turned out to be true in a much more literal sense.

Letting out a sigh as you toed your shoes off by the front door, you settled your winter gear and house keys on their respective hooks before making your way to the kitchen. The contents of your fridge left much to be desired, a box of Chinese takeout and an unfinished bottle of wine sitting pretty on the second shelf, a sad cast of recurring characters in your post-breakup misery. Pointing at the Merlot, you declared, “I’ll be back for you soon.”

Although you wanted nothing more than to curl up with a trashy romance novel and the cheap wine, your career didn’t care how sad you were; work needed doing and therefore laundry needed washing. After shedding your work attire and scrubbing the day from your body with a hot shower, you carried the sizable buildup of clothes down the hall to the laundry room. You began sorting the delicates from your regular wash, pausing mid-squat at an unfamiliar shade of red peeking out from the bottom of the hamper. Tossing t-shirts and work pants aside, a traitorous prickle of hot tears momentarily blurred the stark white USMC before you. Releasing a ragged breath, you pulled the hoodie to your face and inhaled deeply, the fabric muffling your sob as the smell that you had come to think of as home overwhelmed your senses. Seven months of memories played in your head in the span of mere seconds, quiet nights on the couch, steaks cooked by the fire, the scraping of a sander against wood.

You missed Jethro more than words could describe. You missed his warmth, his touch, his teasing remarks. You missed visiting him at work, and sharing entire conversations with Tony consisting only of movie quotes, and nerding out with Tim over the latest Game of Thrones episode, and bonding with Ziva over a few hours at the range, and going to concerts with Abby, and trading interesting cases with Jimmy. You missed insightful talks with Ducky about life and opera and the enigma that is his friend and your lover. You missed the sight of matching keys on the hook next to yours and work boots in the hallway. You missed trading sections of the paper over morning coffee. You missed the quiet protest of the bed when he slipped in beside you well past midnight.

You missed having someone to come home to.

Swiping at your eyes, you abandoned the task at hand in lieu of moping in your bedroom, but first doubling back to enlist the company of your trusty red. You settled down on the floor at the foot of your bed and eased the cork out of the mouth of the bottle, taking a hearty swig as you pulled your wooden memory box into your lap. Running your fingers over the intricate pattern on top, you recalled the day Jethro had gifted you the handcrafted piece for all of those pictures you force me to be in, he had admitted with a begrudging smile. You took out the stack of Polaroids, spreading them out on the floor before you as you gulped down another mouthful of wine. Although the dates were printed at the bottom of each photo, you could easily track the progression of your relationship by the way Jethro’s visage grew less grumpy and more smiley over time. A teardrop splattered across the shiny surface of one of your pictures, and you were quick to wipe it off without smudging the writing on the bottom. You finished off the last dregs of red wine and with it, your crumbling resolve, and you dialed ten digits on your cellphone purely via muscle memory.

Jethro’s voice in your ear made your heart twinge, even if it was just to tell you to leave a message. Taking in a shuddering breath, you opened with a brilliant, “Hey, it’s me.” Cringing, you soldiered on. “You’re probably still at work, because that’s- that’s what you do, isn’t it? Work yourself to the bone, people who care about you be damned. Sorry,” you sighed, immediately reneging on the snarky comment. “That’s not fair of me to say. I admire you and the work you do, you know that, right? It’s just that, well, Ducky had warned me this would happen, that you have a hard time separating yourself from the job. I guess I thought I could stop it or delay it or something, but I couldn’t. And now it’s-” You paused to squint at the digital clock on your nightstand. “-a quarter after ten on a Wednesday night, and I’m wine drunk, and I miss you so much that I called just to hear your voice on a goddamn answering machine. I mean, c’mon, Jet, who still has a landline these days? Christ, this is fucking pathetic. Maybe I should get a cat or some-” The phone beeped at you, indicating that you’d reached the time limit on the machine. Dropping your head into your hands, you groaned out, “Oh my god.”

You heaved a sigh, then delicately returned your treasured memories to their keepsake box before replacing it on the desk. Deciding that the crisp winter air would do you good, you slipped into your coat and boots, locked up, and headed outside for a late night walk.

_______

“I mean, c’mon, Jet, who still has a landline these days?” Jethro chuckled softly at the incredulity in your tone, tuning back in to your message just as it got cut off. He poured himself another splash of bourbon, then downed it in one go, finger already itching to replay the rambling message for the third time in as many minutes just to bask in the sound of your voice for a few more precious moments. He heard the stairs creak and emptied out a mug of miscellaneous screws and fasteners under the assumption that Tobias was joining him to discuss their progress on the case. Instead, the voice he was so desperately craving to hear floated downstairs to him.

“You really should lock your doors. Never know what sort of unsavory character could wander in off the street.”

Turning to face you as you reached the bottom step, he rumbled out, “So that’s where my favorite hoodie’s been hiding.” There was a distinct edge to his voice as he silently took in your bleary eyes and slightly disheveled appearance.

“I took a cab,” you said softly, immediately recognizing the heat in his glare as concern at the thought of you driving in your current state. “Can I come in?”

“You’re already in,” he responded, not quite curt, but not exactly warm either. Still, he hooked his ankle around the stool beside him and pulled it out, simultaneously pouring two fingers of his signature bourbon into the awaiting mug on the workbench. You took that as an invitation to join him, closing the remainder of the space between you and accepting the amber liquid as you perched on the seat. Gathering your courage, you took a sip and offered, “I missed this gasoline with a side of tetanus.”

“I missed your unparalleled wit,” he shot back, the corner of his mouth lifting with mirth.

“Hey, so, random question,” you forced out through a laugh, “have you checked your messages yet today? Just wondering cause I-” Your words caught in your throat when Jethro suddenly framed your face with his hand, the familiar ridges of his callouses pressing against your skin as he molded his mouth to yours. He pulled back just as abruptly, eyes wide with the realization of the wounds he had reopened and muttered, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, entwining your fingers with his on the workbench. Not yet able to meet his gaze, you clarified, “Don’t apologize. Not for that, at least.”

“Y/N-”

“No, actually, you know what?” You finally dared to look up at him, taking in the scruff dotting his cheeks and the dark circles beneath his lower lids that no doubt mirrored your own. Hot tears brimmed at your water line as you continued with a ferocity, “You don’t get to turn those pretty blue eyes on me and kiss me and make me forget about the terrible month I’ve had without you. I’m so mad at you. So mad.” You punctuated this thought with a sharp prod to his firm chest. “I wanted you to fight for me. For us. But no! You decided the best course of action was inaction, and I had to be the bad guy. And you know what the worst fucking part about all this is?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head before pulling you into his arms. You melted into his embrace, all of the fight draining out of you as you confessed, “I’m not really mad at you. I’m mad at myself for being so naive.”

“Oh, my love,” he breathed out, squeezing you tight until your tears subsided. “You deserve so much better.”

Pulling back so you could look into his shiny eyes, you huffed, “That’s just it, you idiot. I want you to be better.” Lifting your joined hands to your lips, you pressed kisses to his knuckles before whispering, “I need you to choose me, just like I choose you every day. I want to build a life with you, to grow old with you-”

“One of us is already old,” he cut in with a cheeky grin, forcing a laugh out of you.

“Fine,” you amended, “I want to grow older with you, grumpy.”

“I want that, too,” he confessed quietly, the intensity in his eyes stealing your breath away. “The thing is, angel, I did choose you. I just thought you would be better off without me, and that if you left you’d be angry instead of hurt.”

“You- what?” you spluttered. “I should smack you upside the head for that, you stupid, infuriating man. What kind of dumb reverse psychology is that, Jethro? I just thought you would be better off without me,” you mimicked in a deep voice. Jabbing your finger into his chest again, you repeated, “Stupid.”

Grabbing your outraged finger as leverage, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours once more, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and thumbs rubbing soothingly against your skin until your righteous anger boiled down to a controlled simmer. You let out a sigh as his mouth left yours, then beckoned him forward again. “One more.” He placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Another.” This time, the opposite side. “Keep ‘em coming.” He chuckled warmly before dotting gentle kisses all over your face until you graced him with a smile.

“Honey, listen,” Jethro said, growing serious as he guided you back down to sit across from him but keeping a firm grip on your hand, “I know I went about this in entirely the wrong way, and I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making up for it.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” you grumbled playfully, squeezing his hand.

“And you know I’m not big on moon phases and star signs and all that-”

“We’ll work on it.”

Fixing you with a look and tweaking your nose affectionately, he continued, “But I’m pretty sure most people don’t get lucky enough to find two soulmates in one lifetime. Shannon would never let me hear the end of it if I let you get away again.”

“Oh, Jet,” you sighed, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. “The day I realized I was in love with you, I made your girls a promise that I would take care of you. Help me keep that promise, okay?”

“I will,” he whispered, two simple words, a solemn pledge. “Now let’s go upstairs so you can tell me what I’ve missed and call me stupid a bunch more times.”

“Deal,” you laughed, taking his hand so he could help you up. “Can I just check the answering machine real quick before we-”

“Nope,” Jethro cut you off, pulling you into his side and squeezing your hip as you ascended the stairs together. “I’m keeping that message forever. Maybe even quote it in my vows one day.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

#jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x you #jethro gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x y/n #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #ncis #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis gibbs #ncis x reader #hurt/comfort

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alisonsfics · 6 months

Text

something i didn’t tell you

pairing: tony dinozzo x reader

summary: you and tony finally confessed how you felt about each other and went on a magical date. things take a turn for the worst at work the next day as your daughter, who tony doesn’t know about, is kidnapped.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: kidnapping, hostage situation

You sat at your desk, anxiously waiting for Tony to arrive. You and Tony had gone on your first date last night and had a great time.

The whole team had pushed you both together after seeing you two pining over each other for years.

The elevators dinged behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, hoping to see Tony. You sighed seeing that it was McGee walking towards you.

“Don’t get too excited to see me,” McGee joked, noticing your disappointed expression.

“Sorry, McGee. I just— thought you were someone else” you explained. You saw his eyes light up as he figured out what was happening.

“Oh yeah, the big date with Tony was last night. How’d it go?” He asked, enthusiastically. The whole team was very invested in yours and Tony’s relationship. They had seen your relationship grow from the day you and Tony met.

“It was good,” you said, trying to be nonchalant. McGee just chuckled. “Oh just good? You can’t get that smile off of your face.” He said.

Then, the elevator dinged again. You jumped and looked over your shoulder.

It was Ducky.

You turned back to your desk and saw McGee chuckling to himself. “Oh shut up,” you said, glancing over at McGee.

You started working on some paperwork, trying to distract yourself.

“Delivery for Agent L/N,” you heard someone say beside you.

You turned and saw Tony standing next to your desk with two cups of coffee in hand. A smile instantly grew on your face.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup out of his hand. He put his backpack down by his desk and walked back over to you.

He stood next to you, leaning on your desk. “Good morning,” he softly whispered to you. He quickly leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

You interlaced your fingers with his. “I had a really great time last night,” you told him, honestly. You saw McGee staring at you both from over his computer screen.

Tony saw how your eyes glanced over at McGee. “Probie, no staring,” he said, without even turning around to look at McGee.

You giggled to yourself. “God, you have a pretty smile,” Tony said, in awe of you. He rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand.

“So, how about Chinese food at my apartment tonight?” He suggested. You nodded your head quickly. “That sounds amazing, but you better get to work before Gibbs gets here or he’ll make you stay late.” You told him.

Tony shrugged. “Boss man may be disappointed in me, but he won’t exactly be shocked. He knows I can’t resist you,” Tony flirted.

“Fine, you can stay here, but I need to start working.” You told him. Tony had no problem watching you work. He found you mesmerizing.

You opened your email and opened the first email that popped up.

You felt your eyes go wide as you saw a picture of your daughter with duct tape over her mouth and her hands tied together. You felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs.

Your eyes skimmed over the paragraph and realized it was a ransom note. Tony noticed how your hands started shaking. “You alright?” He asked, placing his hand on your shoulder. His voice was full of concern.

You quickly closed the email and jumped up from your seat. “I need to talk to Gibbs,” you said, quickly. He was the only one who knew about your daughter.

McGee, who was still eavesdropping, heard what you said. “He’s up in a meeting with the director right now. Is everything okay?” He asked. You brushed Tony’s hand off of you, and headed towards the stairs.

You noticed Tony following behind you. “Stay here, Tony,” you told him. He had no intention of listening. He was hot on your tail as you ran up the stairs.

“You can talk to me. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” He asked you, to which you didn’t respond.

How were you supposed to tell Tony you had a secret daughter who was being held hostage.

You walked into the director’s secretary’s office. “The director is with Special Agent Gibbs right now. You’ll have to wait to talk to the director.” The secretary informed you.

You didn’t stop walking. “I need to see Gibbs,” you said, before barging into the director’s office.

Both Gibbs and the director looked really shocked to see you. You knew to never interrupt Gibbs, but it was urgent.

“Gibbs, I need to talk to you.” You said, your voice cracking. Tony noticed how your eyes were starting to tear up, and he knew something was really wrong.

Gibbs rushed over to your side, putting his a hand on the small of your back. “Let’s go talk,” he said, simply. Tony continued to follow after you.

“Get back to work, Dinozzo.” Gibbs ordered. He knew how close you and Tony were. So, if you came to him instead of Tony, he knew it was something important.

“But boss, I—” Tony started to say before getting interrupted by Gibbs.

“I said, back to work,” Gibbs said, with a harsher tone. Tony stopped in his tracks, watching as you and Gibbs walked into a conference room before returning to his desk.

“So, what’s going on? Is it about Emily?” Gibbs asked you, knowing he was the only one who knew about her.

You nodded your head. “I got a ransom email. It said if we didn’t turn over some evidence, they would kill her.” You said. The pit in your stomach got deeper.

Gibbs sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. He placed his hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Dinozzo doesn’t know about her, does he?” He asked you, even though he already knew the answer.

“I was worried he’d get scared off if he knew. Now, I feel so stupid for worrying about that.” You mumbled, looking at the ground.

“Hey, look at me. It’s not stupid, but we’re gonna need all the help we can get on this one. That includes Dinozzo.” He told you. You knew you needed to tell Tony, you just didn’t know how.

You both left the conference room. Tony’s eyes were on you the whole time as you walked towards the squad room.

You walked over to the side of Tony’s desk. His eyes were still filled with concern, especially seeing the tears building up in your eyes. You reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Can we go talk?” You asked him, softly. He quickly nodded and followed you over to behind the stairs.

You took a deep breath, trying to put the words together. He gave your hands a squeeze and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Take your time,” he told you, softly.

You shook your head. “I don’t have any time to drag this out. Tony, I really really like you. I have for a while, which I’m sure you know. But, I really didn’t want to mess this up or scare you away, so I kept something from you.” You said, taking another deep breath.

Tony was patient. He could tell how hard this was for you.

“I have a daughter. She’s five years old, and her name is Emily. I wish I could’ve told you when I was ready, but I got a ransom email this morning saying they had taken her.” You explained, as tears dripped down your cheeks.

Tony wiped away your tears and pulled you into a hug. “I want you to know you could never scare me away. I am crazy about you. You having a daughter doesn’t change that one bit. And we are going to find her, okay?” He told you, honestly.

You nodded your head, giving him a weak smile. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

He rested his hand on the small of your back as you both walked back to your desks.

You nodded at Gibbs, letting him start his presentation. The whole team was gathered in the squad room, even Abby, Ducky, and Palmer.

Gibbs stood up from his desk, “Eyes up, everyone. We have a kidnapped child and a ransom note demanding we hand over evidence from a case. I need everyone’s complete focus on this case.” He explained.

“Is it the child of a marine?” Ziva asked, knowing NCIS usually didn’t work on kidnapping cases unless they involved a marine.

“The child’s name is Emily L/N.” Gibbs said. Everyone’s gaze shifted over to you.

“Do you mean that— wait…you have a daughter?” Abby asked you. You nodded your head.

“I didn’t tell anyone but Gibbs. I thought it would help keep her safe, but clearly that isn’t true.” You explained, sitting down at your desk.

“Hey, this isn’t your fault.” McGee chimed in, trying to help.

“I know you’re probably right, McGee, but it really doesn’t feel like it right now.” You said, starting to dig into the case.

“Y/N, you need to be interviewed. We need to know the last time you saw Emily, what she was wearing, everything. Dinozzo, you can do the interview.” Gibbs said.

You went to protest, but you knew there was no chance of you convincing Gibbs otherwise.

You followed Tony into a conference room, where you both sat down.

“I know you want to be out there looking for her, but this is important.” Tony said, trying to reason with you.

You ran your fingers through your hair and nodded. You gave Tony all the details of Emily’s daycare, what she was wearing, who had permission to pick her up, and a bunch of other information.

“You did good. This is gonna help.” Tony said, emailing the information for McGee to update the BOLO.

“This is all my fault, Tony.” You said, tears streaming down your cheeks. He slid his chair over to you and took your hands in his. “None of this is your fault.” He tried to convince you.

“They targeted Emily because I work for NCIS. How is that not my fault?” You asked him. Tony had been where you are, so he completely understood, but he didn’t have the perfect response to make you feel better.

“You’re doing everything in your power to get her back. You are fighting to protect her. In my opinion, that makes you a pretty badass mom. And I know Emily thinks the same thing.” He told you.

The door to the conference room slammed open. “We’ve got an address.” It was McGee.

All three of you raced towards the parking garage. “Ziva’s driving,” you said, tossing her the keys. You knew she’d get you there fastest.

You all raced to the address McGee had found. The house belonged to a man who was on your suspect list for another case. He wanted the evidence turned over so he couldn’t be arrested.

“You, stay out back, in case he runs. I don’t want you in this house.” Gibbs ordered you. You nodded, accepting the command. “Go get her,” you told Tony. He nodded, and you knew he would.

You stayed out back as they broke into the house. Tony and McGee checked the front of the house. They cleared the bedroom and then found a closet door behind a bookcase.

McGee stood ready with his gun as Tony moved the bookcase. They opened the door and saw Emily crouched down in the corner, with tears streaming down her face.

In the other part of the house, Gibbs and Ziva had arrested the kidnapper.

Tony quickly put his gun away. “Hi, Emily. You’re safe now. My name is Tony, and this is Tim. We’re friends of your mom. We’re gonna bring you to her. She’s right outside.” Tony said holding his arms out to the little girl.

She walked towards him and let him pick her up. Tony rushed out of the house towards you. He walked out the back door, and you ran up to him.

“She’s okay,” he said, handing her to you. You quickly took her into your arms. “Hi, sweetie. Are you okay? Mommy missed you so much.” You mumbled into your daughters hair, peppering her face with kisses.

“Thank you,” you mouthed to Tony. He nodded his head and gave you a smile.

He walked over to McGee to give you some privacy. “So, you didn’t know?” McGee asked him. Tony shook his head. “I don’t think it freaks me out as much as I thought it would.” Tony admitted.

Before you, commitment was Tony’s worst nightmare. He never thought he would be dating someone with a kid.

“I knew there was something different about her. You both just seem right for each other” McGee said, honestly.

It gave Tony a lot of confidence that he wasn’t the only one who felt how special your bond was.

You made eye contact with Tony and waved him over to you. “Emily, I want you to meet my friend Tony. Is it okay if Tony comes over sometimes and hangs out with us?” You asked.

She nodded her head. “Can he watch Little Mermaid with us?” Emily asked, referencing her favorite Disney movie. You nodded your head, smiling at her.

“You know want to know something fun about Tony?” You asked her. She eagerly nodded her head.

“Tony loves watching movies.” You told her. Her face lit up in excitement.

“You’ll watch princess movies?” She asked, looking at Tony. He nodded his head. “Of course, we’ll watch all the princess movies you want.” He said, with a big smile on his face.

Then, Gibbs walked over to you both. “We’re gonna head back now. Ducky’s waiting to give this little cutie a check-up.” Gibbs said, ticking Emily.

“Hi, Uncle Gibbs” she said, in between giggles. After finding out about Emily, Gibbs had made sure to come over for birthday parties and always brought her presents.

Keeping his hand on the small of your back, Tony led you towards one of the cars. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket, and you remembered you still had the keys to the other car.

“I gotta bring these keys to McGee,” you said, grabbing them out of your pocket.

“I can hang out with Emily,” Tony volunteered, holding his hands out for her. Emily seemed eager and reached out for Tony.

You walked over to where McGee and Ziva were standing, tossing the keys to McGee. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” McGee asked you. You cocked your head to the side. “What is?” You asked, confused.

“Seeing Tony with a kid,” McGee said, looking over at Tony who was letting Emily play with the siren. “He’s a natural,” you said, in awe.

“We’ll let you get back over there. See you back in the office,” McGee said.

You walked over to Tony’s open car door. Emily was sitting in his lap holding his NCIS badge and examining it. “It’s really shiny,” she said, running her fingers over the words.

“When we get back to where me and your mom work, I can get you your own badge, if you want.” Tony suggested, referencing the toy badges you had to give to kids. Emily eagerly nodded her head.

“C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get you buckled.” You said, taking her from Tony’s arms. You strapped her in to her booster chair in the backseat before getting in the passenger side.

It only took a few minutes for her to fall asleep in her chair. You felt the tears start streaming down your face. You didn’t want to cry in front of Emily, but you were so relieved she was okay.

Tony noticed immediately. “Hey, it’s okay. We caught the guy, and she’s safe.” Tony said, placing his hand over on your thigh.

“How are you still so calm after everything I’ve thrown at you today? We go on one date and then you have to find out that I have a daughter. I’m sorry that I never told you about her. We’ve been friends for a few years now, and you’ve always been so honest with me.” You apologized, really feeling all the emotions of the day.

“You don’t have to apologize. You were protecting your family. I would never fault you for that.” He said, interlacing his fingers with yours.

When you got back to the office, Tony had to take a phone call, so you brought Emily over to your desk where Ducky was waiting for you.

“Emily, this is my friend, Ducky.” You said, introducing them. Emily started giggling, pretty amused by his nickname.

Ducky gave her a few bandaids and said that except for a few scratches, she was fine.

“Oh, but you do have something behind your ear.” Ducky said, reaching behind her ear and pulling a lollipop out of his sleeve. Emily’s jaw dropped, wondering if she had just seen real magic.

“I got another present for you, as promised.” Tony said, appearing behind Ducky and handing Emily a little plastic NCIS badge. “Thank you,” she said, cheerily.

“C’mon, Emily. I’m going to introduce you to everybody.” You said, standing up and walking over to where everyone was gathered around McGee’s desk.

“These are all your aunts and uncles. You know Uncle Gibbs, and you met Ducky and Tony already. This is your Uncle McGee and Aunt Ziva.” You said, as she waved at all of them.

The elevator doors dinged, and Abby came running into the room. “Is she here?” She asked, excitedly. Gibbs pointed towards you, and Abby ran over.

“And this is your Aunt Abby. She’s been very excited to meet you. Go on, give her a hug.” You said, handing her to Abby. Abby was beaming.

When Abby found out there was a mini NCIS agent, she was so excited to meet her.

“I like your braids.” Emily complimented. “Thank you, Emily. I could braid your hair sometime if you want.” Abby responded, smiling. The two of them got along great.

“Hold on, Emily. I gotta tell your mom a secret really quick.” Abby said, cupping her hand over Emily’s ears quickly.

“Can I please babysit whenever you two are on dates and y’know?” Abby whispered to you and Tony. Laughs slipped out of both yours and Tony’s mouths.

“Sure, Abby,” you agreed, still giggling. Emily had also closed her eyes when she heard the word secret, so Tony leaned over and pecked you on the cheek.

After Tony came over that night to hang out with you both, all your fears about scaring Tony away were gone.

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