#he checks quite a few of the boxes lol

[aeyumicore]

what's mine

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, not canon events (completely fictional)

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 10.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, first time sex with zayne (not virginity loss), jealous!zayne, dom!zayne, zayne slightly loses control of evol, furniture breaks, lot’s of teasing, fictional characters, size kink, vaginal sex, oral sex f!receiving, tongue fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, slightly drunk sex (not really), tummy bulge, posessive/claiming behavior, let me know if i missed anything!

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooo writing for my fav zayne again <3 would you guys believe this is actually the first lads fic i ever started but i put it on hold because it was way too elaborate and i didn’t want to make a whole like multi chapter fic? i actually cut out a lotttt of it, it probably would’ve been more like 30k words if i kept the same writing style/detail i had originally, and i just could not do that to myself

also the matthew/intern mentioned in the fic is completely made up and fictional, he is not a reference to any characters! i couldn’t bring myself to use greyson for the purposes of the plot bc i think he and zayne are so cute LOL god i love the jealous angsty feelings trope 

pls enjoy hehe i luv u guys <3 also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore :’)

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

"Will you go to dinner with me?”

You whip your head around to see where the unfamiliar voice came from, coming face to face with one of the surgical interns of the Akso hospital. You’d run into him several times before when visiting Zayne at work, but never quite got his name.

"Me?” 

The intern chuckles at your dumbfoundedness, which he thinks is adorable, "Yes, you’re Y/N right? My name is Matthew. I'm one of the surgical interns here. So, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”

Zayne chokes on his rice from the seat beside you, patting his chest a few times to clear his throat. You’d decided to have lunch with Zayne after your check-up today; well more like you’d forced him to the cafeteria with you against his will. You’d desperately wanted to try the infamous mint chocolate chip jello the hospital cafeteria served, even though you knew it’d be disgusting. And so you both sat at a table in the cafeteria, you with your jello and Zayne with a homemade bento box you’d made for him, along with some of his favorite pastries from the bakery down the street.

At his coughs, the intern’s eyes snapped to Zayne’s and it was like he’d just then realized Zayne was there, the surprise and anxiety written all over his expression. Zayne was always someone who commanded respect and fear from his colleagues and subordinates, so much so that Matthew had turned pale as a ghost. 

"Oh! Dr. Zayne, I'm so sorry I didn’t realize–” but Zayne cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand. 

"It’s fine. Continue your conversation.” You’re a bit taken back by Zayne’s nonchalance. Sure, you were just childhood friends but it would be nice if Zayne had any reaction at all to being asked out right in front of him. You yourself couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Zayne but it was seeming more and more that it was completely one sided.

"I, um…” you’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to let the handsome intern down. Matthew was honestly very attractive, and seemed kind enough, but you had hoped to spend your friday night with Zayne, though you hadn’t had the chance to ask him yet. He’d been swamped with surgeries and patients the last few days and you hardly got to see him at all. And you missed him thoroughly.

"I actually had plans with Zay– I mean dr. Zayne,” you glance at Zayne, hoping he’ll get the message, but the expression on his face is dark and unreadable. 

"No we don’t. You should go,” Zayne’s tone is cold and his eyes refuse to meet yours. Despite yourself, your heart clenches in disappointment. You know Zayne could be obtuse but he was also extremely intelligent and perceptive. He undoubtedly knew you wanted to spend your night with him. But it was becoming more and more apparent he did not want to spend his with you.

"But i–”

"I have plans anyways.” Your eyes can’t help but sting as he avoids looking at you. So you try to steel yourself; you were a big girl and a little bit of unrequited affection would not destroy you. Keeping your voice steady and blinking back unshed tears of frustration, you look up at Matthew, his eyes lighting up at you expectantly, and you try to give him your best smile.

"I...I would love to go to dinner with you!”

You don’t notice the deep scowl on Zayne’s face as a dark icy storm brews in his green eyes. 

–

You stumbled out of the taxi, your way-too-high heels catching on the foot step almost causing you to trip headfirst into the pavement. You sigh as you catch yourself on the cab door and glance at your hunter watch and see that it’s already 1am. 

"Get home safe miss, and no more drinks, you hear me?” Your cab driver reprimands you teasingly.

"Yes sir,” you mock salute him as you wobble onto your feet, thoroughly drunk, "Thank you so much! Please drive safe. Good night sir!”

"Good night miss!” 

You turn towards your apartment building, sighing in exhausted defeat. What an absolute disaster of a night.

The date was unexpectedly wonderful. Matthew was handsome, kind, funny, and a complete gentleman. He brought you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant downtown, so you wore one of your most elegant dresses, not that you had many. It was a simple satin black mid-length evening dress, with a slit that exposed just up to your mid thigh and an open back that accentuates your figure. You’d normally never wear something so sensual on a first date, but you couldn’t deny that the way Zayne had reacted, or not reacted, stung your heart. So maybe you did go a little extra tonight because you were hurt. So what?

After dinner, Matthew and you took a leisurely stroll at linkon park, with enough time to catch the sunset. As you watched the sun melt into the sea of golden yellows and dusky pinks, Matthew kissed you. It was passionate, slow, and soft. The perfect kiss.

Except when you moaned out Zayne’s name. 

And so the night ended as quickly as it began. Matthew was as understanding as he possibly could have been, but you could tell it killed anything that could have happened between the two of you. Matthew was a surgical intern, so with what little free time he had, he said he couldn’t chance it on a girl who was clearly already in love with someone else, especially if that someone was his boss and mentor. He’d offered to give you a ride back home but you refused, saying you’d grab a cab instead.  

So you found yourself at a bar, downing shots of soju to numb the mortification of your blunder but also the feeling of utter patheticness. Hours went by as you wallowed in your emotions. You’d had feelings for Zayne for as long as you could even remember. And still, you couldn’t tell him or move on from him. 

But maybe you would have the guts to tell him if it didn’t feel like he literally could not give two cents about you, beyond as a patient and as his annoying childhood friend. It was literally like pulling teeth to get him to spend any time at all with you lately. 

So here you were, stumbling into your apartment building at 1:37 am: drunk, exhausted, and empty. The night breeze raised goosebumps on your exposed thighs as your heels clicked on the pavement in the dark. 

You headed toward your apartment, through the main entrance and up the lobby elevator, the alcohol still making your brain swim. Luckily you no longer saw double, and your eyelids no longer felt like a ton of bricks.  

The elevator door dinged open and you trudged toward your unit, your toes screaming in protest in the confine of your heels. You forced your vision to cooperate with you as you tried to punch in your door code. The error buzz sounded out, again and again, and you groaned in frustration.

In the blurry edges of your vision, a large and slightly scarred hand reached over yours. Yelping, you whip yourself around and reach to grab the gun you always had strapped to your thigh. But from the icy cold touch against your fingers and the scars littering the pink skin, you realize exactly who it was.

"Zayne?” You did your best not to slur, trapped between him and your front door. You don’t miss how he swears under his breath as his eyes trail down your body, lingering at all your exposed skin, before snapping back up to your face. You can’t even imagine how wrecked you must look right now, mentally kicking yourself for not touching up after the bar. Your gloss was undoubtedly smeared from the kiss and the copious alcohol, your hair a bird’s nest from the night breeze, and your mascara smeared from the stray tears of your drunken emotions.

You didn’t do a very good job at steeling your voice because Zayne saw right through you, his eyes narrowing as they absolutely drank you in, "You’re drunk?” His voice holds a dangerous edge, as if mad that you’d have the audacity to be drunk. He deftly types your access code in, and gently ushers you into your apartment. You stumble in your heels against his body, and Zayne wraps his arm around your waist to catch you before you fall. You flush at the way his hands palm the exposed skin of your lower back. 

"M’not drunk,” you protest, swatting his hand away, not wanting your body to give any of your feelings towards him away, but Zayne only grips you tighter, fingers flitting between the soft satin material of your dress and the goosebump ridden skin of your back. His arm on your waist feels so right, threatening to make you melt right into his embrace. But you fight the urge, trying to hold onto your annoyance.

You can’t see his eyes but you know they’re rolling in their sockets at your obvious drunkeness. He gently guides you through the threshold of your home and then kneels down before you. The sight of him on the floor in front of your feet makes you reel, hoping the furious blush is masked by the flush of alcohol in your blood.

"W-what are you doing?” You try to step back, but your knees wobble and Zayne grips your thigh in place. You shiver at his cold touch on your sensitive skin, a little too high for you to keep any semblance of calm.

"Do you want to stay in these deathtraps?” He murmurs as he starts to slip the strappy heels off of your aching feet. His fingers around your ankle tingle as he softly massages the red skin of where the straps dug in.

"Zayne? Why are you here? Did something happen?” Your voice wavers still, but Zayne’s cold touch is starting to sober you up and clear your vision as your mind tries its best to focus on him. Zayne doesn’t respond as he lifts your other foot and slips the other heel off. His fingers linger on your bare legs before he slips your house slippers on your feet, standing back up to tower over you. 

"It’s almost 2 in the morning, and you’re just now coming home,” his voice is hard and stern, it’s clear he has things he wants to say but you’re in no mood for a lecture on sexual safety, stds, and stranger danger. 

"I was busy,” you snap, your emotions running extra high from everything that had happened today, especially Zayne’s nonchalance. But he’s incredibly patient with you, as he always is, taking you by the waist nagain and leading you to your living room couch. You’re too tired to resist, and you desperately need to get off your aching feet.

"How was your date?” Zayne sits you on your couch and then heads to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. His question reminds you of how royally you screwed up today and your mood sours even more. 

"Fine,” you mutter, trying to keep from snapping at him again. Zayne sits beside you and brings the glass of water to your lips, tilting it for you with his fingers on your jaw. You take deep gulps, the cold water soothing your entire sore body. Sinking further into the couch, your mind wanders back to your disastrous screw up. You’d called Matthew Zayne. It literally couldn’t get more mortifying than that.

Zayne stares at you and you know he doesn’t believe you, so you murmur again, "It was fine.” But as his intense eyes bore holes into you, your voice cracks under all the feelings you’d stuffed deep down today. 

He was here now and it confused you to no end. You’d wanted nothing more than to spend your day with him, but he’d pushed you away. Were you really that blind that you’d developed feelings for a man who did not feel even slightly the same way? 

Your eyes well up with tears at the thought and you try to subtly brush them away by pretending to scratch your cheek, but as always Zayne sees right through you. 

"Did he do something to you? Did he get you drunk?” Zayne’s voice is calm but hard and threatening.enough to scare you if it weren't for the way he softly gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, using his free thumb to catch the tears before they can slip down your cheek

But through it all, you register the implication of his words. "Wh-what? No!” You exclaim, "Matthew was a complete gentleman.”

His eyes track yours, unwilling to let go of your gaze, "Then why are you crying?” 

You blink back your tears before more can fall onto his thumb. Your voice wavers as you stare into the hazel green ocean of his eyes, and you answer his question with a question of your own, "Why are you here Zayne?” 

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” Your chest constricts with unrelenting emotions, but your drunken haze makes you even more steadfast in your stubborn resolve. 

"Well I'm home, safe,” you avert your eyes, knowing if Zayne keeps staring at you with that intensity you’ll start to unravel and confess everything.

"Why did you take a cab home?”

Your eyes snap to his, "How did you know I took a cab?” And this time Zayne’s eyes refuse to meet yours, "Zayne? How long have you been waiting for me?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, instead brushing the tangles out of your hair. You try to get his attention by tugging at his tie, the alcohol making you feel much bolder than you normally ever would. 

You can see his adam's apple bob as he lets himself be drawn in, only slightly, towards you. At your pout, he sighs in defeat, prying your hands away so he can loosen the tightened hold around his neck, "I’ve been waiting for you…forever.” 

Before you can respond, he clears his throat and continues, "I got here at 9 and waited in my car when I knocked and you didn't answer.”

At your bewildered expression, he sighs and elaborates, "I just wanted to see you get back home safely. But when I saw you get out of that cab I needed to come check on you.”

Your brows furrowed as your sobering self tried to do the math in your head. Zayne can practically see the steam coming out of your ears and smiles lopsidedly, chuckling under his breath at how adorable you were being.

"You waited for 7 hours?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. 

His grin deepens and you can see his eyes sparkling with laughter , "You are drunk. Why are you drunk?”

You purse your lips shut, unwilling to speak. With all the overwhelming emotions swarming your mind, you knew if you started talking now you would surely never stop.

At your silence, Zayne prods gently, "Talk to me, Y/N.” His voice is deep and commanding in a way that almost always gets you to listen to him. 

You zip your lips shut and turn away, doing your damn best to not give in. But Zayne’s touch, still on your cheeks, forces you back towards his eyes.

"Be a good girl,” he demands softly, his eyes searching yours for answers. 

Blowing out your cheeks like a child, you’re unwilling to give up the attitude, "I’m drunk because I was drinking.”

"Did Matthew take advantage of you?” Zayne’s jaw is locked and the intensity in his eyes is blinding, damn near dangerous. 

"No! Zayne, no. I went to a bar to drink alone, after our date,” you try to hide the embarrassment from seeping into your voice.

"Why? Did he do something to you?” His voice is still threatening, and you sigh at the unrelenting questions. You knew Zayne well enough to know he wasn’t going to let up, so it would just be easier on you if you told him everything that happened.

"Matthew was amazing,” you don’t notice the way Zayne’s eyes darken at your praises for the intern, "The date was fantastic. And after, we saw the sunset.” His expression is still unreadable and you start to fidget under his intense gaze, not knowing in the slightest what he was thinking. 

"And then he kissed me. We kissed. And that was it. I went to the bar and he went home. End of story.” 

Zayne’s fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white, but he keeps his gaze steady. He doesn’t speak, and you’re scared of the tense silence that falls between you two.

"He couldn’t at least accompany you? Make sure you were safe?” You can tell Zayne is angry by the way his feet taps uncharacteristically erratically against the floor, "Driven you home?”

His questions make it impossible for you to forget about your horrifying mistake today and you just feel so incredibly bad for Matthew. The regret and embarrassment gnaw at your mind like parasites. And so against your better, albeit slightly still drunken, judgment, you finally blow.

"He left because I was thinking of you, okay? Matthew was a gentleman, he was funny, kind, and charming. And yet I was thinking of you the whole time. And so he left and I went to a bar and got drunk all on my own, okay?”

"You were thinking of me?” Zayne’s voice is an annoying mix of bewilderment, intrigue, and what sounds like mockery, which just infuriates you.

"I am always thinking of you Zayne! I thought about you at dinner, I thought about you when we watched the sunset, and I thought about you when he kissed me,” you burst, your drunken lack of inhibitions leaving nothing unsaid. 

Zayne’s face is unreadable again, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes you tremble in your seat, "You were thinking of me when he kissed you?”

Unable to bear his unrelenting repetitive questions anymore, you explode, "Yes Zayne! And when he kissed me I called out for you!” The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think twice about it. It takes you a second to realize what you’d just blurted out and you bury your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of your lungs. Unfortunately it was 2am and you had neighbors that most definitely would not appreciate that. 

You feel his strong hands grab your wrists gently, prying your hands away from your face, wanting to see you, "You called for me?” His tone is as amused as it is intrigued and it frustrates you to no end, the shame weighing heavily on your mind. 

"Don’t tease me right now Zayne,“ you warn weakly, "I am always thinking about you. But you…” your voice trails off to a shallow whisper, "You don’t seem to think about me.”

Zayne is silent but his eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen them, staring into your soul. The silence is thick in the air as you refuse to be the one to break it.

Finally, he speaks, voice clouded with indiscernible emotions, "Is that what you really think? That I don’t think about you?”

"Do you really think I waited for 5 hours, in my car, for you to come back because I don’t think about you?” Your breath catches in your throat at the pure and raw growl in his voice. 

Before you can respond, he continues, "I think about you every second of every day. I thought about you all day, thought about you on your date with Matthew.”

Zayne shifts so that he can cup your face with both his hands, drawing his face closer but not close enough, "I thought about him getting to hear your voice, getting to touch you…to kiss you. It drove me insane.” 

Your feelings churn in your stomach and into your chest, making it hard to breathe. The way Zayne is looking at you, his hands holding your face so possessively, threatens to stop your heart altogether. You’re drawn to him all over again, only this time it feels like he might be drawn to you too.

"W-why?”

Zayne doesn’t speak, and you watch as his eyes flutter to your parted lips as you pant out your breaths, eyes fighting to stay open amidst all the tension enveloping the two of you. 

"Why did you push me to go with him then?”

His eyes force themselves onto yours, as if unwilling to leave your lips, "I made a mistake.” 

His revelations quickly sober you up, and you’re left feeling vulnerable but bold. You softly grab a fist full of his tie, pulling him closer. You can faintly hear him groan under his breath, but he lets himself be guided towards you. Your lips are so close to each other that you’re inhaling each other in, and you beg gently, "Kiss me, Zayne.” 

Zayne wastes no time at all, threading his fingers from your cheek into your hair, pulling your face the remainder of the distance to his own. 

Your first kiss with Zayne is nothing like you’d daydreamed it would be. You’d imagined the patient and reserved surgeon to be soft, gentle, taking his time with you. You’d expected it to be passionate but reserved, like the handsome raven haired man himself. 

And while the passion was undeniably there, what you didn’t expect was the bruising claiming heat that came with it. Zayne’s soft lips marked you as his own, a lifetime’s worth of emotions evident in the way he molded himself against you. With every twitch of his lips, Zayne laid claim to what was his. He kissed you like you might disappear at any moment, as if this was all a dream.

And when his tongue swiped across the parting of your lips, asking for permission to enter, you gladly relented control and authority. After all, you were his. You think you had been for some time.  

You hadn’t expected your first kiss with Zayne to be like this, and yet it was everything you wanted and more.

When you shift yourself to climb on top of him and straddle him on your couch, Zayne reluctantly pulls away, hands still gripping the back of your head, "Y/n, we should stop.” But he can’t stop his hands from leaving your soft hair and resting on your hips, almost like a reflex. His words say one thing but his hands just can't seem to pry themselves off of you.

You’re taken aback by his words, unable to stop the insecurity and hurt that paints your face. Zayne notices instantly, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke your cheek, hooking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into his hand, the whiplash starting to exhaust you as much as it kept you on your toes. 

"I want to,” he whispers hoarsely as you squirm on top of him, answering your unsaid thoughts, "I can’t even convey how much I've fucking wanted to. But you’re drunk. And the first time I finally take you...I want you to feel every second of it.” 

Your eyes flutter at his words, stomach clenching in anticipation. Having fully sobered up a while ago, before he even kissed you, you can’t help but beg a little, "I’m not drunk anymore. And even if I was… I want you. I’ve wanted you…forever.” 

Zayne swears, his eyes going full doctor mode, and you can tell he’s inspecting every inch of you to try and discern if you’re truly sober or not. You fidget nervously under his intense stare, to which his hands grip your waist painfully tight to keep you in place.

"Stop,” he grits out forcefully, as if in pain. You do your best to still in his lap, and that’s when you feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection underneath your parted dress that had ridden up to bunch at your hips, right against the pantyhose against your cunt. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?” He groans as your body presses deeper into his lap, "Because once…we start I won’t be able to stop.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the heated warning doing nothing but arousing you to your core. Through your hooded eyes, you nod eagerly at him, "M’sure Zayne. Won’t want to stop.” 

He smirks at you, a heart stopping smile that melts your brain and cunt simultaneously into a leaking mess, "You asked for it love.” 

Before you can even have the chance to physically combust at the affectionate pet name, Zayne whisks you into the air, scooping you under your exposed knees effortlessly. You yelp, clutching onto his neck as he carries you like a bride into your bedroom, navigating your apartment like he owned it. He bent down to capture your lips with his again, like he couldn’t physically wait to get you to your bed before claiming you again. 

You feel the cold press of your sheets against your spine as Zayne sets you down gently, and settles in between your thighs on top of you. His eyes absolutely devour you whole, raking up and down your exposed satin clad skin, "You look beautiful. I’ve been wanting to tell you all night.” His praise is throaty with desire and it makes you squeeze your thighs together against his body in anticipation. Your face heats at his words, and you run your palms up and down his abdomen, the material of his dress shirt feeling like silk against your burning skin. 

Zayne grins and chuckles, mostly to himself, but the sound catches your attention and you find yourself pouting in self-consciousness, "What’s funny?”

Zayne’s long fingers trace the outlines of your body under the satin dress, eliciting soft moans from you that please him to his core, "You just look so beautiful.” His fingers reach the bottom of your dress and begin to stroke the fabric of your pantyhose, inching up under your dress, so torturously slowly, "You wore this for him, yet I'm the one that’s going to tear it off you.”

Your body trembles at his words, the pool between your legs growing wetter. You can feel yourself growing impatient, only wanting his body to press onto yours, to suffocate your.

"Zayne please, don’t make me wait any more,” you murmur as you sit up on your elbows, pressing your forehead against his. You heartbeat is quick and your rapid breaths fan across his face. 

His eyes darken at your pleas, the hazel hues appearing almost a light brown, "Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to drive me insane.” He sits up on his knees, loosening his tie before undoing it completely and discarding it on the floor next to your bed. You bite your lip as you watch him undo the top three buttons of his shirt, his toned chest on display under it. 

Leaning back down, he presses a bruising kiss against your swollen lips. His hands wander to the thin straps of your dress, gently tugging until they slip off your shoulders, letting him tug your dress down until your breasts are exposed. His tongue against yours is unrelenting, marking every inch of your mouth as his.

Detaching himself from you, he buries his face into your neck, his cold lips incredibly soothing against your lust burned skin. You cry out when you feel his teeth softly sink into the skin of your pulsepoint, as he suckles on you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

"Zayne,” you gasp out, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to have your mind filled with nothing but his mouth on you, "Please.”

He trails down your neck and collar, inhaling you into his lungs at every opportunity. You feel his smile against your skin as he reaches your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the lust. He voice is muffled against you, "Please what, my love?”

"I…” you’re too mortified to say the things you want him to do, so the silence overtakes you. Unhappy with your hesitation, Zayne bites into the supple flesh above your pert nipple, eliciting a string of moans and squeals from you. He’s instantly using his tongue to soothe the pain away, quickly replacing it with waves of raw pleasure. 

Zayne lifts his head, staring at you expectantly, "I can’t continue if you don’t tell me what you want.”

His unrelenting teasing drives you to the edge of madness, your arousal evident by the way it leaks through your panties and your pantyhose. But you’re stubborn, still refusing to speak. 

"Good girls listen to their doctors don’t they?” He places fleeting kisses onto your goosebump riddled areolas, careful to purposefully neglect your increasingly sensitive nipples.

"Should doctors really be this intimate with their patients?” You retort like a brat, wanting to dish back all of his incessant teasing.  

He smiles at you, thoroughly amused at your insolence, "I suppose not, but am I really just your doctor?” With that he captures your waiting nipples into his mouth. You cry out at the incredible feeling of his cold lips on your breasts but his warm tongue on your nipple, your lower body thrusting up uncontrollably into his crotch. 

He groans into your chest as you brush against his throbbing erection, restricted by the confines of his pants. Against the heat of your womanhood, Zayne hardens impossibly further, feeling like he might actually explode against the constraint. The sounds of your pleasure and your cries for him make it difficult for him to concentrate.

Switching to your other nipple, Zayne uses one hand to undo his belt, letting it fall to the ground with his tie. He undoes the button and zipper his pants, yanking them down with such feral urgency. When his cock was finally free, he broke away from your chest, hissing in relief. You look down and you’re met with the realization of why he was in so much pain. 

Zayne was large. In a way that terrified you to your very core. You could imagine that the restraint of his briefs alone would be uncomfortable, painful even, when holding something like that back. 

Zayne catches your stare and he grips your chin between his fingers, guiding you to his eyes instead, "It’ll fit baby, don’t worry.”

You fight to keep your lip from quivering, trying not to get lost in his green eyes, "Will it?”

"I'll make it fit, but first let me prepare you love,” he says Matter-of-factly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. The certainty in his voice turns you unbelievably on and you find yourself needing to please him. Your hand seeks out his erection, grasping it firmly into your fingers.

He groans at the slightest touch, knees buckling into the bed beneath you. You start with languid and deliberate strokes, feeling every vein pulse under your fingers. Your thumb finds his large engorged head, already leaking with pre cum, feeling every smooth surface of his cock under your touch. While Zayne writhes on top of you, you revel in his glorious manhood, everything about it utterly perfect and terrifying.

As you touch him, Zayne leans into the crook of your shoulder, laying claim to your sensitive neck. He marks every inch of bare skin he can find, leaving a trail of red and wet bruises in his wake. 

Your entire palm is wet with his leaking arousal, as he moans so closely into your ear. Gently, he pries your palm away from him, sitting back up onto his knees, smirking satisfyingly down at the marks he’d left, "God, I've waited so long to have you.”

You reach down to shimmy out of your pantyhose and black evening dress, leaving you in your black lace thong, naked, willing, and pliant before him. You see him gulp harshly, his eyes hazy with need, and you sit up to level with him, "So take me Zayne.”

A low growl rips from his throat, as he pushes you back onto the bed, setting your head against your wooden headboard. Zayne tortures you, kissing down your collar, your chest, your naval, and finally down the soft mound of your pelvis. 

Zayne seems almost feral as he looks at your lace covered cunt and back up at you, "Did you really wear this for him?”

"N-no,” you whine, "I wouldn't have ever l-let him. He wasn't you.”

Zayne seems somewhat placated by your response, hooking his cold fingers into the waistband, his voice a low grumble, "That’s my good girl. No one will ever see you in or out of these, but me. Right?”

Your brain fogs over as he slips your soaked panties down your legs, his breath hitching seeing the string of clear slick clinging to your cunt. 

"Fuck.” He’s lost in his stares, in absolute awe of the meal before him, carving every single perfect centimeter into his memory. You squirm under his intense stare.

"Zayne please don’t make me wait anymore,” you wine, crying out as he bends down and his lips graze the apex of your slit. 

His voice is incredibly smug, "You are so beautiful when you beg for me.” You sigh in frustration as his lips and fingers continue to just barely graze your needy body. 

"Zayne, please,” your body thrusts into his, but he holds you back down, almost impatiently.

"Behave yourself, Y/N. You can do that for me, can’t you?” His voice is full of command, making you back down instantly, shivering at the suspense of his words.

"I didn't wait this long to have you just to rush all the things I want to do to you,” he all but purrs, as his lips find your soaking slit.

The room is filled with your lewd cries as Zayne’s tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your throbbing hole. As your doctor, Zayne knew the ins and outs of your body but you never expected him to know you like this. Like his tongue was designed for nothing else but to deliver you the most unimaginable pleasure in this world. 

Zayne groans when his tongue enters you for the first time, the quivers resonating straight to your core. His nose brushes against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the vibrations of his own lust filled grunts bringing you closer to releasing all over his skilled mouth.

Your thighs clench against his face, and you almost worry you might suffocate him. You try to pry them away from him, but he only grips them with his strong hands, bringing them closer to his face, wanting nothing more than to be yours, wholly and irrevocably.

"You taste better than I ever imagined,” he moans out, staring into your eyes from between your legs. You blush at the filth of his words and the glistening slick smeared across his lips and chin.

"Did you – ahh hah – think about me often?” You tease between the sounds that spill out of your mouth uncontrollably.

He doesn’t answer, instead capturing your entire clit into his lips, sucking in earnest. You feel his smirk as you squeal out, hands digging into the fabric of your sheets and tugging hard. His hands knead your ass as he continues to eat, positively starved.

"Z-Zayne I-I can’t take much more,” you slur, your toes curling against his sides as he goes back to spearing his tongue in and out of you, using the tip of his nose to massage your clit, inhaling the smell of your arousal into his lungs.

"Yeah? Is my girl gonna make a mess for me?” He breathes into you, his hands reaching up to toy with your nipples. You cry in response, feeling the coil in your gut tightening beyond belief, the pleasure threatening to make you explode.

"Cum into my mouth love, let me taste you,” he whispers breathlessly into your cunt, slipping his middle finger inside of you, the wet sounds of his skin pounding into yours filling the room. You come done instantly, screaming as your back arches off the bed and you release all over Zayne’s waiting mouth, hands ripping at his soft hair. 

"That’s it baby, look at you cumming from just one finger,” he muses, working you through your orgasm with just his middle finger. You let out a stream of broken moans, unable to form any words.

"Fuck you’re this tight around just one of my fingers?” He murmurs before dipping back down to devour everything you give him. 

He laps up your spend eagerly and diligently, not letting a single drop go to waste. Refusing to relent against your twitching clit, Zayne devours you until the overstimulation lights your pussy on fire. He’s always had a sweet tooth and it looks like he’s found his absolute favorite dessert, unwilling to give it up any time soon.

"Such a messy girl,” he mumbles to himself, the clear strings of arousal sticking from your wet thighs to his chin. 

Your thighs tremble at the discomfort of overstimulation, doing your best to back away from him, "Mmm Zayne, s’too sensitive. No more, please.”

He relents reluctantly, looking utterly displeased with having his treat taken away. As he sits up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans forward into you, tapping your lips with his thumb.

"Open,” he commands forcefully, bringing his soaked middle finger up to you. You part your lips obediently, welcoming the taste of you on his skin. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a deep heated moan at the feel of your tongue on him, tasting everything he got to taste. His cock literally felt like a ton of bricks needing to be pleased. 

Releasing his finger, you reach for his length again, "I-I want to make you feel good too.” 

Zayne presses his cold lips to yours, simultaneously undoing the buttons of his shirt. He pulls aways to shrug the clothing off his broad shoulders, giving you an eyeful of his glorious physique. He shivers, letting you jerk his erection up and down, but pushing you down when you try to get on your knees before him.

"Next time. We have all the time in the world,” he whispers, pushing you against the headboard, holding your cheek in his large hand, "But right now I need to be inside you.”

The smoldering fire in his eyes makes your mouth dry, and you nod meekly. The promise of a ‘next time’ is enough to have you ready for him again. Your cunt still quivered, recovering from your previous orgasm, but pooling at the hoarse need in his tone. 

As your head lays on a pillow against the headboard of your bed, Zayne lifts you from the small of your back and shoves another pillow behind you, so that you’re elevated towards him, served on a silver platter.

"Spread your legs for me,” he growls, the urgency in his voice leaving little room to protest. And so you obey, widening your legs for him, watching as he admires the area between your thighs like it was 

His hand reaches to cup you, clit caught against his palm and fingers toying with your hole, "Who does this belong to?” 

But you can’t hear him through the searing pleasure of his touch against your over sensitive body, the blood pounding in your ears like drums. Looking at where his hand meets your body, you cry out at his ministrations against you, your thighs trembling in shivers. 

With his free hand Zayne grabs your chin, slipping his thumb into your mouth, harshly forcing your eyes to his, "Don’t look away. Be a good girl and answer me.”

Although his words are driven with lust, they remind you of the emotional turmoil you’d been weathering because of your feelings for the man in front of you.

"M’yours Zayne, always been yours,” tears well in your eyes and you hope he can understand the weight behind your words, behind all the lust and arousal filled craze. 

Zayne stares back at you, and his eyes hold an entire galaxy of emotions that match the colors of his irises: desire, devotion, awe…and love. 

"And I am yours,” his words strike your heart and you lean up to slot your mouth against his. As he kisses you, he lines up his thick length with your cunt, teasing your clit with his engorged tip, his pre cum mixing with your spend that still leaked out from your prior climax. You cried into his open mouth at his teases, your back arching off the pillow and further into his cock. At your movement, his head catches onto your throbbing and waiting hole, eliciting a deep grunt from him. 

He pulls away, groaning, "So impatient, you want it that bad?” You whimper, burying your face into his neck and latching onto his pulse point to save yourself from having to answer. 

"P-please…” you whisper into his ear. He groans, fishing through the pocket of his pants as he pulls them off of his legs. 

"Please what, love?” He smirks at you, pulling his wallet out, now just in his briefs pulled down to let his massive erection free. 

You gulp, staring at the way he stands so proudly against his naval, reaching comfortably to his belly button. His girth rivals that of at least three of your fingers.

The rustling of plastic snaps you out of your shameless ogling. Zayne places a condom packet between his teeth, tearing it with one hand. You gulp at the sight of him, but you protest, "I–i um,” you clear your throat, trying to work up the courage to vocalize what you want, "You don’t have to use that.”

Zayne’s dark eyes catch yours, and the edge in his voice is dangerous, a warning, "Don’t tempt me. I need to protect you.”

Your face burns as you try again., "W-what I mean is, well as my doctor you know I'm clean.” You do your best to stop your voice from wavering, "And I-I um I'm on the pill.”

Zayne’s eyebrows quirk as his irises darken with heat, "How come I didn't know that?

"I’ve been using an online service for a few months,” you say sheepishly, "S-so you don’t have to use that.”

Zayne catches on, a satisfied smirk gracing his features, "Is that so?” He teases his entire length on your slit, practically fucking you along the lips of your womanhood. Using his swollen tip, he taps your clit forcefully, eliciting a throaty yelp from you.

"Tell me what you want.” You shiver at the pure feral domineer in his voice.

"P-please Zayne, I want it. I need it.”

"What do you need baby?” 

You groan in frustration, but give into his demands, "I-I need you Zayne, need you inside. Need it so bad.” The way you can see his breath hitch in his throat fills you with confidence, so you lean closer until your bottom lip brushes against his, "Need to feel you inside, please Zayne.”

His jaw locks as he grits out forcefully, "I will give you everything.”

Zayne holds his cock with one hand, lining it up with your entrance. His other hand grips the wooden beams of your bed frame, "Can you take it Y/N?”

If you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure you can. Though you weren’t a virgin, you had never even seen a man so large, let alone attempted. But at Zayne’s expectant expression, you nod eagerly, "Y-yes I can, I-I can try.”

"Good girl,” he mutters, before sinking himself into you. The stretch is so much worse than you imagined it would be, practically splitting you in half. You squealed, clawing at his biceps as he did his best to enter you. Feeling so incredibly stuffed, you look down only to see he’s barely just gotten his tip inside.

The vein in Zayne’s forehead throbs as his jaw slackens, a string of swears leaving his lips, "Jesus you’re like a vice down there. I need you to loosen up love, or else I'll never be able to get inside.”

You pant against him, not knowing what to do but to watch the way he stares intently at your tummy. The heat and desire in his expression arouses you beyond belief, and you unconsciously squeeze your velvet walls in excitement. 

Zayne’s knuckles turn white as he grips the headboard for support, the veins in his forearms bulging as he groans out, "Fuck baby please. Are you trying to squeeze it off?”

"Sorry, m’sorry. S’too big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders for support. The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt, and you don’t know if you can take much more than what’s already inside you. "Z-Zayne it’s too big I c-can’t,” you pant, doing your best to relax and loosen up your muscles. 

"You can, you’re doing so good for me Y/N,” Zayne huffs out, pushing deeper into you, the slick from your forming arousal and his pre cum starting to make the stretch easier. The drag of his cock against your gummy walls starts to feel so torturously delicious, like your body was made to take him in. 

Finally, he eases into you, eyes unable to look away from where your bodies connected.

"If you could see how – hah – beautiful you look like this, spread out for me,” he grunts, being as gentle as he can manage, when all he wanted was to ram into your warm and tight cunt, squeezing him so tightly. 

"Been waiting for the day I could – shit – finally be inside you. Drove me fucking insane thinking about you and Matthew.”

His words are enough to have you leaking all over your joined bodies, the slick dampening his pelvis and your thighs. As he seats himself in you as deeply as he can, his tip brushing against your womb, he lets out a shaky breath of ecstasy.

"Is this what you – hah – thought about? When you were with another man?” His words are claiming, making butterflies explode in your gut and your cunt to flutter around him. You can only moan and drool as his body thuds into yours, over and over. 

"Sweetest little princess cunt I've ever felt,” he swears, languidly withdrawing from you before pushing back in, knocking the breath out of you. With your head leaning against the back of your bed frame you can see every second of his glistening length burrowing in and out of you, like it absolutely owned you. 

"Z-Zayne,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders, "Please.” You don’t know exactly what you’re begging for, but you can’t stop the words from coming. 

"Hah, if you want something you have to – fuck – ask for it love,” he pants, doing his best not to get lost in the pure pleasure of finally getting to be inside you.

His words send you reeling, the ecstasy increasing with each deliberate and hard drag. You fight through the fucked out haze, vision blurred from your hooded lids, "Hah - harder please.”

At your request Zayne stutters for a brief second, your cunt squeezing so tight he could barely move, "Anything for you.” 

With his hand clutching the frame, he uses his other hand to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit. His pelvis smacks against your thighs and ass so hard that the bed posts knock into the wall repeatedly, the skin slapping sounds mixing with the sounds of the wood against the plaster. 

At the added stimulation your eyes roll into your brain, your eyelids weighing down heavily. Zayne leans in until his chest presses against your breasts, your breaths heaving in tandem. His eyes follow yours, forcing you to hold eye contact with every deep thrust into your soul. Against your will, your eyelids flutter as the pleasure starts to overcome your fighting consciousness.

You can vaguely make out Zayne’s smirk, as his hand leaves the frame to cup your chin in his palm, "Don’t tell me you’re already worn out, love.” His fingers flick against your clit.

You yelp out, nails digging into his back with one hand while the other hand smacks his shoulder gently. You pout, "You’re so mean to me.”

He leans down to kiss your shoulder, his pace never faltering. He chuckles against your skin, "But you can take it, right? You always take me so well.” The double meaning of his words makes you clench in excitement, the praise making your chest tighten.

He groans as you clench down onto him, threatening to make him blow, "Hah so fucking tight. You like that huh baby? You like it when I praise you?” He thumbs your clit with more intensity, wanting to see you come absolutely undone for him.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, nodding eagerly in response to his words. Zayne’s thrusts only grow in intensity, as if he’s trying to reach your esophagus from your cunt. You’re a mess of uncontrollable moans and mewls, unable to stop your eyes from rolling back and your tongue from hanging out as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Look at you,” he grins arrogantly, voice husky with desire and raw possessiveness, "Going on a date with my intern just to end up with my cock stuffed in you.”

You whine at his words, simultaneously not wanting to think about Matthew but also being so turned on by the dominating undertone of his words. His fingers abandon your clit, much to your disappointment, to trace the bulge his cock makes in your tummy. His other hand pulls your chin down so you can watch him.

"Look how deep I am, love,” he grunts. You watch in awe as the small bump in your stomach  bulges and disappears with the rhythm of Zayne’s thrusts. With every withdrawal, Zayne’s impressive cock glistens with slick, the throbbing veins bulging enough to make you drool. Absolutely entranced, you fit your hand under his to stroke at his cock as it pushed through your tummy.

Zayne swears as you caress his cock through the bump in your tummy, throwing his head back to catch his breath. His hand goes back to paw at your clit, trying to stop himself from blowing his load into you right there.  

As the climax builds in your gut, you throb around his impossibly hardened length spearing in and out of you, to which he twitches inside of you. The sounds of your combined whimpers and grunts, the lewd smacks of his damp slick dampened skin against yours, and the bed slamming against the wall overwhelm your brain until you can only think about Zayne, his cock inside you, and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

"Zayne, I-I’m close,” you cry, hand abandoning your stomach to loop around his neck, digging your nails into his damp skin.

"Fuck – I know love, I can feel you trying to squeeze it out of me,” he grunts, body slamming into yours so hard that your body smacks against the headboard.

"I’m gonna – gonna cum,” you cry, nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.

"No,” he demands, and you do your best not to gape at him. He gasps through his next strokes, "Be a good girl and wait for me. I want to feel you finish all over me when I cum inside you.”

"O-okay,” you say, but you’re honestly unsure if you’ll be able to wait, the waves of pleasure crashing into you so roughly it threatens to overtake you right then and there.

"That’s my girl,” gripping your chin, Zayne leans in to kiss you again, his tongue claiming your warm and waiting mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body tenses as you try to quell the raging tides of the impending climax, moaning endlessly into Zayne’s mouth.

You pull away to breathe, your lungs needing as much oxygen as possible to withstand the ecstasy. Zayne’s hand grips the wooden beams above your bed again, his knuckles turning white as he watches the pleasure contort your beautiful face. 

"I-I can’t – ”

"You can, baby. I’m – hah – almost there, just hold on a little longer for me,” he grunts. The pleasure and pain of his edging threatens to knock you unconscious, but you nod and throw your head back as your eyes roll backwards again.

Through your fucked out haze you can vaguely see a strange icy sheen forming on the wooden beams of your bed’s headboard. You follow the path of luminous crystals and realize they’re forming from Zayne’s hand that grips against the frame so tightly his knuckles are pale and taut, as he comes closer to exploding inside you. 

Unable to shake yourself out of the pleasure, you can’t find the words to warn Zayne. You continue to watch in awe as the beautiful iridescent flakes frost over the dull old wood. His palm is covered in a layer of snow white frost, the tiny snowflakes dancing around his skin as it grips the furniture so forcefully. You realize he’s losing control of his evol, because of you. And the idea of that threatens to push you head first into your second orgasm of the night.

It happened so fast. As Zayne bullies himself in and out of you, thrusting as if his life depended on it, the wooden beams of your headboard cracks in his hand, the wood turning brittle against his icy evol, and shattering under the force of his bruising grip. 

Zayne shields your body with his own as frozen wooden splinters fly everywhere, his thrusts stuttering as the sound of cracking wood pierces the air. You can tell he’s scared, constantly worried about losing control of his evol around you like this. His hands clasp together, massaging his wrists and trying to calm the unpredictable storm of his evol. You can feel him about to pull away, to get away from you and keep you safe.

You hug him close to you as he tries to pull away not wanting him to stop, not caring the least bit about the splintering wood falling into your hair. The worry and disgust with himself is evident in his eyes, and it tears at your heart so you do your best to comfort him, "S’okay Zayne, it’s not a big deal, I promise.”

But his eyes are far away, thick with emotions that make your chest lurch. You hold his face in  your hands trying to get him to look at you and not the splintered mess of furniture above you. You lock your knees around his waist. "Zayne baby,” you soothe gently, "Look at me. Look at me please.”

His frantic eyes meet yours under the guidance of your palms. You watch as the storm in his eyes calms down ever so slightly when they meet yours. You brush your thumb against his cheek, whispering, "Don’t stop, please. M’so close. I need you.” 

But Zayne is hesitant, only filled with worry for you, his thrusts halting altogether but still thick and solid in you. His jaw clenches down, "Did I hurt you?”

"Not at all,” you reassure, hand stroking his anguish laced face, "I don’t care, please make me cum Zayne, want to cum for you s’bad.”

Zayne continues his thrusts slowly, trying to shake away his anger at himself, "Hah – I'm so sorry Y/N, I'll buy you a new one, okay?”

"Y-yes whatever you want, but please just fuck me,” you plead, not wanting your climax to slip through your fingers, "Please don’t stop.” 

Your begging is enough to have Zayne going feral again, slowly regaining the vigor in his thrusts. His hand dusts the wooden fragments away from your hair. Your head sinks deep into the pillow, and falls back to peer at the gaping hole in your bed frame, slightly in awe of his sheer primal strength. It honestly turned you on unbelievably, edging you closer and closer. 

"Zayne I c-can’t wait anymore, m’sorry m’cumming,” you wail, your nails digging through his back as the ecstasy explodes in your body, from the tips of your curled toes to your fucked out brain. Your walls flex against Zayne’s vigorous thrusts as he continues to chase his own high, briefly forgetting about the furniture he’d ruined in his brief slip of control. 

Your eyes pull away from the snowflakes melting on the splintered headboard and fixate on Zayne’s eyes as your vision spots with fireworks, his cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly. 

He lifts your thighs up until they press against his chest, your muscles aching in protest. Your ankles rest on his shoulders as he drives himself into your guts at this angle. He leans down and your body screams at the stretch in your muscles but he hits you so deeply like this you can’t feel anything but pleasure. He hits your g spot at every thrust, your body barely recovering from the previous orgasm as he steers you straight into another. 

"Sh-shit,” he groans, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours, "Squeezing me so fucking tight, are you trying to milk me? If you keep clenching down like that I'm gonna – fuck!” He swears at your nails digging into his broad back, dragging deep scratches into him as he fucks you roughly through the pleasure. 

"P-please Zayne I want to feel you,” you cry, "Cum inside me, please.” As Zayne pounds into you with no semblance of mercy, stars blur your vision, your body doing your best to accommodate him and the endless waves of overwhelming ecstasy. Your wet release splashes against your skin with every thrust of his hard muscular body. 

"F-fuck I'm gonna cum so deep inside you baby,” he groans with his eyes intently staring into yours, "This pussy is all mine.”

"You’re mine,” his voice is intense, a primal growl of urge and possessiveness, claiming you as his with both words and with his body. He bends back down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss into you, tongue intertwining with yours needily. Both his hands threads through your hair, tugging gently as he rocks into you. He groans into your mouth, body shuddering as he finally releases into you.

Zayne rips away from your lips to rock onto his knees before you and carry you onto his lap, wanting to be able to hold you as close as possible as he emptied rope after rope inside of you. The angle allowed him to literally fuck his spend up into you. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands around his neck, unable to even squeal at the sudden movement, only able to drool out against the crook of his neck. 

His spend is so deliciously hot inside of you, as your pussy quivers at the warmth, squeezing him even more. He forces his tongue into you again, wanting to be attached to you in every way as he pumps every thick rope into your waiting womb. As he tugs on your bottom lip, body still pressed on top of your legs, cock hitting your sweetest spots, you release all over him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your cunt pulsates uncontrollably, pulling more and more of his essence into you. Zayne’s thick muscles shake under you, the waves of his orgasm rocking his entire body into yours.  

You pant as his bounces slow, his unending stamina finally coming to a halt as his sweaty chest heaves against your trembling breasts. He presses gentle kisses to the deep hickeys he’d marked onto your skin, using his broad hands to caress your bruise splotched throat.

The sound of satisfied pants and soft moans blankets the two of you as you snuggle into him, never wanting this moment of post sex bliss to end. Your collective spend begins to leak down onto Zayne’s lap, your poor cunt physically unable to hold the copious amount of spend inside of you. 

As his member softens it begins to slip out of you uncomfortably, so you squeeze in an effort to keep him in you as long as physically possible. 

Zayne swears, his eyes heated and his gentle grip on your throat tightening just slightly, as he warns you darkly, "Behave. Unless you want me to take you again.”

And though the idea of him bringing you to orgasm again, and many times after, sounds like heaven on earth, you don’t think your poor cunt can possibly handle any more pleasure for tonight. He chuckles when you ease up, stroking the curvature of your naked spine with his icy fingers. 

"I’m sorry about your bed, my love,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, falling softly backwards onto the bed and guiding you down with him until you rested on top of his hard muscular body, his softening erection still nuzzled deep inside you. He’s careful to lay the two of your joined bodies away from the destroyed headboard, holding your head protectively against his chest.  "I will buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

His free hand roams every inch of your body, from twirling the strands of your hair to gripping the supple flesh of your rear. 

"S’okay Zayne, it’s not necessary,” you murmur sleepily, tracing the contours of his taut muscles, "I don’t need a new frame.” Honestly the idea of Zayne breaking your bed in pure primal lust was enough to have the heat collecting back in between your thighs. 

"I would rather you take me on a date,” you smile into his skin, "Since you ruined the one I had today.”

Zayne chuckles, the sound so warm and beautiful to your ears you think you might melt right into his solid frame, "I suppose I did. Will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

You lean up so that your chin rests on his chest and you can peer at him through your lashes, giving him your best begging face, "Only if you beg.” 

He looks up at you, the amused lopsided smile on his face just begging to be wiped off, "Please? Let me take you to dinner.” He lifts your chin off his chest with his index finger, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He smirks when you shiver at his fleeting touch, watching you bend to his very will.

"And then after…” he trails off, fingers leaving your face to trace against the side of your exposed breasts, and up to your hard nipples. You bite your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of moaning out. 

As he incessantly fiddles with your skin, you finish his thought with a joke, "After you can come destroy my new bed frame too.”

Zayne’s eyes darken with mischief and amusement, "You shouldn't write checks your body can’t cash, my love.”

The filthy promise in his words coupled with his cold fingers pressed deliciously into your pebbled peaks rip the whimper you’d been holding back out of your lips, your cunt clenching in anticipation despite your crippling exhaustion.

But it seems Zayne knows your body as well as you do. "But for tonight, just sleep,” he mumbles into the top of your head, pressing his lips into your hair. 

"Mmm stay here with me, please,” you murmur into his chest, letting the sleep take root in your pleasure numbed mind. 

"I'll be here when you wake up,” he reassures, his voice falling deeper and rougher with exhaustion and hands shifting to cover your bodies with your comforter. His hands then wrap around your waist, holding your body against this, as if scared you’d disappear from his arms. "I won’t ever leave you.” 

Your heart flutters as the unconsciousness claims you. "G’night Zayne,” you mumble, kissing his chest.

"Good night my love.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[1uvtae]

mistaken very much | jeon jungkook

★word count: 7.4k words!!

★genre: nothing but university romance fluff and very unfunny crack because i have the worst humor,,,look, there's this tennis classmate, and maybe....you've made a pretty big mistake by staring at his butt....? and somehow this turns into a 'crush' on the jeon jungkook that you have never even seen.

★summary/snippet: you don't think staring at his butt cuts straight to the conclusion that you, y/n y/l/n, has a crush on him....but whatever. it's not like you actually have a crush on him...right?

★kae chit chats: forget about motorcycle boy, let's invite tennis boy into the family!!!! this was meant to be posted on v day 2022 but i kind of messed up my sleep schedule and just completely gave up on finishing this lol...,,,nothing but a fluff fic :P and I picked this back up in 2024 lol

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︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the feeling of being mistaken by someone is so fucking annoying. 

especially when you have probably just been mistaken as a pervert…!

the boy in your tennis class (not to mention, very handsome.) was just squatting in front of you, playing with the school campus cat that you have also been taking care of for months. you were also heading to feed the cat when you had already found him there, squatting down, caressing the cat. he was wearing a white button-up and baggy ripped jeans, but you can’t help but notice that….half of his shirt wasn’t tucked in? and it just looks like it’s dangling out like seaweed…? 

after staring at the white fabric for a few seconds, you look down at the bag of cat food, before putting it in your pocket, planning to feed the cat after he leaves. but when you lifted your head back up, your eyes met with the boy, there were no emotions in his eyes but you felt a hint of shyness rush to your head, and the idea that you were going to feed the cat floated away from your head as you immediately rushed back to your dorm. 

nayeon listened patiently and childish complaint that there was also someone looking after your cat, and how he mistook that you were staring at his ass for a good few seconds, before commenting: “don’t you realize that…he might think you were there to stare at him…..and how you ran away when he saw you…that’s quite suspicious…?”

you freeze. “holy shit.” 

nayeon giggled as she continued. “also last tennis session! you were zoning off at the back of his head, so when he turned, he gave you this weird look.” 

“no freaking way. i didn’t notice that.”

“it was a funny look, not going to lie.”

“help, what if he actually thinks i have a crush on him cause i keep staring at him?!” you try to contain the racing thoughts, and contemplate if you should’ve just kept your eyes pierced on the ground and not on his ass, or the back of his head.

“i mean he’s pretty good-looking, it won’t be weird to have a crush on him.”

you roll your eyes at her comment. “i don’t get it, it doesn’t mean everyone has to have a crush on him just because he’s good-looking, nayeon.”

it was the next tennis lesson, and to avoid more unnecessary interactions, you avoided all eye contact with anyone, but that didn’t stop nayeon from squealing and reporting every small movement from the boy. “he’s facing your direction!” “oh my gosh he’s right behind you!” your hands start to clam up with sweat with every small comment from nayeon. “stop looking at him, gosh.” it was after the lesson that you realized how even more suspicious you looked trying to avoid any eye contact and how often nayeon reported his movements in small mutters and whispers, and how you most definitely looked shy enough for anyone to mistake that you like the ‘good-looking tennis classmate’.

the teacher checks names off the clipboard as she reads two names at once to put their tennis equipment away. “nayeon, y/n.” she looks up at the two of you and back to the heavy boxes of tennis rackets. “the boy in the back, the tall one, help them with the boxes, please.” you and nayeon turn your head back in sync, to see the familiar boy nod and walk towards the both of you. you let out a sigh as nayeon excitedly squishes your arm, another strike. 

is this perhaps….hopelessness? 

yup, not only the boy, but everyone in your tennis class probably thinks that you have this awfully obvious and big crush on this person who you don’t even know the name of.

he cuts in front of you two, the three of you in complete silence. you and nayeon follow him like two cautious cats. he stops at the heavy boxes, and you two walk up to help him, but before you know it, he has already picked up the boxes with one hand, the other hand reaching into his pocket to answer the buzzing phone. what the fuck. you two shared a glance in disbelief, not going to lie, that was very, very, attractive. “damn. pretty tough.” you mutter under your breath and feel the two people from either side look at you immediately, his hand still holding the buzzing phone and nayeon giving you a concerned glance. 

the way back to the dorm was filled with your quietness and nayeon’s laugh. “he probably used to think you were just someone who had a crush on him, but now he thinks you are a literal weirdo who has a crush on him.” you run your hands through your hair in annoyance, how did the sentence even slip through your mouth? looks like you won’t be getting sleep tonight. and you sure didn’t, you kept rolling and shuffling in your bed to think of a tactic to this misunderstanding that you and the tennis boy had going on, and with your smart and very intelligent little brain, you figured out a plan.

“to not make him think that i have a huge fucking crush on him, i am going to pretend i have a crush on somebody else.” you take a sip of your coffee as nayeon nods. “hmm…who else is there to ‘like’?” you think hard before coming to the conclusion that there is no one in your tennis class that is worth ‘liking’. nayeon helps you to think for a good minute: “min yoongi from music…?” you shiver at the thought of your cold and savage music seatmate. “if you really want me to die, just say that.” nayeon chuckles at your comment before going back into the deep search for a suitable ‘crush’ for you. “i heard the tennis dude is in geography.” 

“geo!” another friend of yours popped into the conversation. “they have so many hot guys there!” 

you felt a rush of excitement: “recommend me some!”

“what’s your type?” 

“maybe… a pretty quiet one, maybe shy even? not that popular so no one will care if i like him, you know?”

nayeon shakes her head. “you can’t expect someone to be good-looking and not popular, y/n.”

“i think jeon jungkook.” your other friend suggested. “he’s quiet but literally more than half the school likes him, but that won’t be as weird if you also ‘like’ him, cause everyone likes him.” 

nayeon nods in agreement. “never seen him in my life, but i swear i hear his name mentioned on campus wayyy too often.”

hm. interesting.

the next week came by fast, before class you made your way to the disposal machine and picked up a can of coke, putting it in your backpack before heading to tennis class.

it was free time when you made your way to where the tennis boy was, he was practicing with the wall, he spared you a glance as you walked towards him, and back to practicing with the wall. you take a big breath as you walk towards him, the coke still in your backpack, expecting that when he drops the ball, you are going to pick it up and hand it to him, making it a perfect opportunity to start the ‘conversation’. you lean against the fence, waiting for him to drop the ball. 

not even once has he dropped the ball in the 10 minutes you have been standing here. you feel your legs start to cramp up. finally, he decided to rest for a good while, catching the ball with his right hand as it bounced off the wall, he lazily walked to his bag. you immediately rush over with the can in your hand. he looked at the can in your hands, then backed up to you. you couldn’t help but take in his facial features. it was the middle of the day, and the sun was high up in the sky, warming everybody up, and it seemed to warm your cheeks up when you made simple eye contact with the boy. 

he raised an eyebrow at you as if he was asking a rude and straight ‘what are you doing?’ with his facial expressions. you felt a small taste of regret that second, thinking that this boy definitely thinks you have an obsessed crush on him now, so the only thing you can do now is hope that the next few things you are going to say work out. 

“i bought coke for you.” you mumble as he takes a big sip from his bottle of water. “i don’t need that.” he has a straight face and everything. you take another deep breath as you figure out what you are going to say next. maybe this can be a little fun.

“are you free right now? i have something i want to say…” you tried to act as natural as you could. “i'm gonna practice.” he replied coldly before taking his equipment back to the court, your hand found his arm quickly, then released it in a second when he stopped in his tracks. “it’s just a few sentences.” you used a pleading tone, hoping this would convince him that you were going to ‘confess your crush’ to him. he patiently stopped and looked at you. you start your act, stuttering and acting shy, everything you have seen in romance confessing scenes in films. “well. i’ve noticed you for a long time…” you take the can of coke to hide your face as if you were a blushing mess. “i don’t know if you noticed that…” the ‘obviously you have a crush on me’ expression never left his face. “haven’t noticed.” 

you suppress an eye roll. “all i wanted to say was, i knew you’re in geography…i just wanted to ask if you know a jeon jungkook, i’ve had a crush on him for pretty long, can you help me to get his number?” you definitely want to give yourself a pat on the back, a round of applause even. you felt proud of yourself, proud that this ‘plot twist’ you have created for him, will deflate his ego and convince him that you never had your schoolgirl crush on him, but on this jeon jungkook that you have never met.

the tennis boy didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the comment, still calm as ever. “i don’t know him.”

it's even better that you don’t know him. you thought. all you wanted to know was to share the signal that you have a crush on someone who is not him., you didn’t even care to want jeon jungkook’s number, it was all an act to ‘spread the message’, you pretended to be extremely upset that he did not know this crush of yours, whining an ‘awe~’ and nodding slowly, “okay then…”, leaving him to walk away without sparing a glance at you.

you don’t know what’s wrong with you now. 

before you and this tennis boy had this thing going on, you never seemed to be seeing him around campus. but now after the last interaction, you seemed to be seeing the person everywhere. seeing him in the supermarket, seeing him in the cafeteria, seeing him in the library, seeing him between classes. 

and you know what’s more ironic? it’s always when you’re also with nayeon. you know nayeon’s dramatic acts are to notify you that ‘the boy that thinks you like him’ is over there, but from someone who doesn’t know this situation, it looks like she’s trying to tell you ‘there’s-the-boy-that-you-have-a-huge-mother-fucking-crush-on’. 

and the weird thing is, although you had explained that you like jeon jungkook, he seemed to still have the attitude that you are obsessed with him. especially when you bump into him and are forced to mutter a ‘hi’ or ‘hey’. all he would do was a gentle hum in response, or just nod. and you made a keynote to yourself to never say hello to him ever again. 

the main point was when you and nayeon saw him in a convenience store. you two quickly made your way out as soon as he and his friends walked in. but nayeon saw somebody she knew and immediately started chatting along as the social butterfly she was. you watched from your side-eye as he and his friend walked out of the door.

“isn’t the girl in the beige crew neck your little fangirl?” an unfamiliar voice came from the side, from a boy with soft blonde hair, walking next to the tennis boy. 

and then you hear it.

you hear a “mhm” of confirmation from the tennis boy. you felt a rush of anger run to your head as you retained yourself to scream at them. and then you watch the blonde boy spot you and nayeon, awkwardly, he turns away quickly and walks off with the other. but the other did not awkwardly leave, turning back to glance at you without shame. and that boiled your blood even more.

on the road back all you did was scream and mutter some curse words dedicated to the unshameful tennis boy. 

“don’t you think he might think that the whole jeon jungkook thing was an excuse you used to get closer to him?” nayeon spoke slowly after you had expressed all your anger. and you feel your mind pause. 

yup, it sure is hopelessness now if it wasn’t already hopelessness before.

the second morning. you woke up early and the first thing you did was to check on the cat, but you were extremely cautious. you did not want to bump into you-know-who, so you woke up extremely early so you could avoid seeing him. but after squatting down for just a few minutes. the expected happened. there he was, but this time wearing a black silk button-up, the buttons halfway up and you couldn’t help but take a few seconds to stare at him. but it’s okay because you were here first, so that makes you the person he should be waiting to finish with the cat. 

he stopped in his tracks when he saw you, standing in his spot, waiting for you to leave. 

‘do you get it? do you get it!’ you want to scream this at him. ‘this scene seems familiar! because you were in his spot the other day! you were just simply waiting! you don’t have a crush on him!’ you want to shout this all, but you were busy with the cat.

but weirdly today, the cat doesn’t seem to like you. it didn’t even take a single bite from the tuna stick you were feeding it, and it avoided your pats and touch today. 

well..that’s not a very good sign, is it?

“it doesn’t like being touched.” he walked closer, “it might scratch you.” you knit your brows at his speech, you know that. you were here taking care of the cat earlier than this tennis boy…yet he’s giving instructions on how to take care of the cat??

 “i know this cat.” you explain. “it likes me a lot.”

you pause when you watch the cat move away from your touch after your sentence, the cat avoids your touch as it slowly trots over to nudge his leg instead. he squats down and caresses the cat gently, then lifting his head to look at you with a glance, a look that made your blood boil. the competitiveness in you starts burning up like fire, you wave at the white cat, gesturing for it to come back to you. “lulu, over here.” 

the cat doesn't budge, instead, it gives you a lazy side-eye look and back to enjoy the boy's company. is this perhaps, favoritism?! 

“don’t randomly give it names.” he speaks slowly and quietly behind you. “what’s your problem?” you snap back with a tone that does not sound very friendly, and he stays silent as you stomp away. “i’m leaving, lulu!” you yell back one more time, and the cat: still under his touch, eyes closed, relaxed and unbothered. 

okay then…this was your first time fully understanding the meaning and the understanding of pretty privilege. 

“gosh, i was so hurt by that cat.” you complain back in your dorm. “it isn’t supposed to be like this! normally if you give it food, it will love you…but today it was completely under that tennis boy’s control. this is rigged.” nayeon pats the sheet mask she had on her face. “you saw him again this morning?” you sigh. “yeah, unlucky isn’t it?” 

“he probably also thinks he’s pretty unlucky too.” 

“if i knew he was gonna be there, i wouldn’t wake up so early to avoid him.”

“i was thinking,” nayeon starts again with the tone that you do not like very much, knowing this would be another thing to worry about tonight. “what if he thinks you were there just to create this ‘oops i did not know you were going to be here’ scene? like you were waiting for him to come and see the cat too to create this awkward meeting.” nayeon’s guesses always feel like lightning that struck straight into your soul. “and you said the cat didn’t really seem to like you, doesn’t that look like as if you aren’t close with the cat, as if you were there for another reason…? 

that night was one of the sleepless nights filled with overthinking and worry. 

you were heading over to the cafeteria the second day with a friend. in the crowded and loud dining hall, you hear a loud shout of ‘jungkook!’ from one side to the other. hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar name, you turn your head back in curiosity, but instead, meeting eyes with the tennis boy. 

he was sitting at a table with 4 other boys, including the one blonde boy you saw last time when they were walking out of the convenience store. you tap your friend’s shoulder. “hey, turn your head to the big table with the 5 guys, is jeon jungkook in there? don’t make it obvious, please.”

you watch her basically throw her head back aggressively for what seems like 2 minutes, then turn back and nod. “yeah, isn’t he fine?” “holy shit, can you be more obvious?!” but hearing that your ‘crush’ is also on that table, you slowly turn your head once more and scan the boys, then realizing that out of all the boys, the tennis boy is still the most attractive one for you. although you don’t know which one is jeon jungkook, none out of the 4 boys seem to be your type. 

your shoulders drop a little without realizing, disappointed in your ‘crush’. in fact, will the tennis boy think you have bad taste? 

wait, why would you even care about him in the first place…right…?

the second week of tennis class, also your second streak of buying a can of coke for him. but this time, he doesn’t seem as cold and weird as last time. when he saw that you were waiting for him by the side, he dropped his equipment and walked slowly to you. “what?” you feel yourself swallow out of nervousness. “i saw you guys eating lunch last friday.” his brows knit slightly. “who?” 

“jeon jungkook.” you reply quickly as if the name burns your tongue. “you said you didn’t know him last week…” he used an unspeakable emotion to reply. “i think you have the wrong person.” you were confused at the comment, but continued once more. “just say if you know him or not.”

“it doesn’t matter if i know him or not.” he licks his lips and runs his hands through his dark brown hair, maintaining eye contact with you and you feel you slowly lose your breath at the intense eye contact. you clear your throat and hand the can of coke to him, before taking a plastic bag containing some snacks. “the coke is for you, and can you hand these snacks to him?” before he can refuse it, you add another sentence. “if he doesn’t want them, take them for yourself, don't return it back to me, i would feel  very embarrassed if you did.” 

he stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at the items in your two hands, then lifting his left hand to take both the cans of coke and the plastic bag. you let out a long breath. you hope this is obvious enough that you, y/n y/l/n, do not have a crush on him. or any liking. nothing. 

you relax back into your chair, taking in your cup noodles as you listen to the gossip and events that happened today. there seems to be a geography boys vs gym boys basketball game that went on this afternoon, which turned out to be extremely intense and entertaining to watch. your ears perked up at the mention of geo boys. 

you swallow your bite. “so who won?”

“duh, of course gym, they’re the professionals. how embarrassing would it be for them if they lost?!” your roommate answered, “geo lost because two of the best players got hurt throughout the last half of the game.” the thought of the tennis boy ran into your head, and you could not help but wonder if he got hurt too. 

“oh yeah, the jeon jungkook you have a ‘crush’ on also got hurt. think he tripped and hurt his knee or something.” she continues. you nodded before turning to nayeon to ask;“what about the tennis dude? did he play today?” 

“he played too, he was so good, i think i saw him also get hurt.” nayeon lets out a nosey ‘aww’. “you care about him quite much y/n….” you hesitate for a long time, putting yourself into deep thought. “nayeon…this is weird but, do you think that you somehow programmed my brain to take an attraction to him. because i don’t know why i’ve been thinking about and meeting him so much.” 

nayeon knits her brows. “just say if you like him or not…anyways, there’s another game tomorrow, wanna go watch?” 

you don’t know how you ended up here.

you thought you and nayeon were already early, but the court was still jammed with people. you tried your hardest to squeeze into the crowd, once you had finally worked your way to the front, your eyes caught him. 

he stood in the corner, talking to his teammates, the red basketball jersey lazily overlaying a white tee, he ran his hand through his hair, and your eyes could not move away from him. a shout from a girl next to your side entered your ear. “jungkook looks so good?!” but you didn't have the attention for jeon jungkook, your eyes and mind was completely taken away by him instead. 

the basketball game started, your eyes followed him as he took a sip from his water bottle, and high-fived his teammates before entering. a scream came from the two girls next to you. “go geo!!!” the scream caught his attention, causing him to turn towards your direction, spotting you standing next to the two girls. you make a good second of eye contact as you look away and cheer for jungkook instead. 

after giving jeon jungkook a good shout, you turn back to him, but he is still looking at you. you did not know what to do, avoiding eye contact, you scanned the entire court with your eyes but just, not looking at him. he moved and looked away to get ready with his teammates, and you felt obligated to stare back at him. you watch him as he looks away, then lowers his head to suppress a small smirk. 

and that smirk did a lot to you, you could not help but pinch nayeon’s arm. 

the sharp whistle brought you back to life, the game has started. you did not understand basketball and didn't watch games in your spare time. so the entire time, you just kept your glance on the tennis boy. 

and then you spot how his leg definitely got slightly injured during the last race, you could tell that his leg was a little uncomfortable when he was moving intensely. 

but that leg did not stop him from aiming and playing perfectly, when he ran past the crowd, it felt like a swoosh of fresh wind. midgame, the ball has gone out of court. it rolls towards you and you watch as he comes jogging to pick the ball up, then accidentally stepping on your shoes. it was a light step but he immediately looked up at you and apologized. you frown playfully and he moves closer to you. “step on me and then we can be fair.” you bite your bottom lip to suppress a dumb grin, shaking your head and gesturing him to go back into the game. 

you look to your right and see the group of girls rolling their eyes at you.  …arent they obsessed with that jeon jungkook or something…?

without a doubt, geo had won the game. you watched the large crowd of girls rush to hand the players drinks and ask for their numbers. you dragged nayeon away from the crazy amount of students that had created a crowd circling the team of boys. and you two make your way towards the convenience store on the other side of the road. 

you pause in front of the drink aisles, struggling badly to pick a drink. just as you were deciding, a hand reached out from behind you to grab two bottles of coke. “oh, sorry-” you turn your head to be faced with the familiar tennis boy. he walked slyly to the counter, paid for the drinks and handed one of the bottles to you. “sorry for stepping on you during the game.” you shake your head, mumbling that it was fine and takes the bottle with both hands carefully as if you were the one who did something wrong. 

he pauses for a second and grabs the bottle back from you before opening the bottle cap for you naturally in a swift motion. “did you not go and offer your little crush a drink?” he said with a teasing tone. you answer convincingly: “there were too many people standing around, i couldn’t squeeze in.

”oh.” he cocks an eyebrow as he slowly takes his phone out of his pocket. “i was talking to jungkook, telling him that a girl in my tennis class is interested in him, and he agreed to…give you his number.” you freeze instantly. “you want it?” he waves his phone at you. 

this is…a little awkward. to be extremely honest, you don’t want his number, but seeing his bright glassy eyes staring at you, it is a little hard to refuse to take the number. you nod slowly as you bring out your phone, and enter the number into your contacts.

on the way back to your dorm, your finger trembled to type something into the chat, all you managed to enter the chatbox was a subtle and small smiley face. 

quite awkward considering the fact that you don’t even know what this jeon jungkook looks like.. 

he replied fast, with just a casual:

‘hey’

you told him that he played really well during the game. 

jungkook thanked you and said that he had received the bag of snacks. 

well, this is a great start. but you can't help but think about what if this jeon jungkook takes an interest in you. 

when you don’t even know who he is in the first place.

the second week of tennis class, you watch the tennis boy walk onto the court with a box of gourmand chocolates. nayeon nudges you when she sees him walk towards you, and stop just in front of you. 

he looked especially calm: “he asked me to hand you this.” you reach your hand out take the pink box of chocolates and thank him with a mumble.

after class, jungkook texted you to ask if you had received the gift, and you two had some small talk. conversations about how your classes went and about his day distracted you, almost bumping into a tree. nayeon laughs as she drags you to the side before that disaster, “might as well go for this jeon jungkook if he’s brightening your day so much, y/n.” 

you lock your phone before linking arms with nayeon. you’ve never realised how often you and this jeon jungkook got along just simply by texting. this situation seems to be a little flirty since he knows that you “like” him. 

“i don’t even know him!! this was just a misunderstanding, there’s no way will i go for him.” nayeon nods her head. “of course i know it’s a misunderstanding, but it seems like it is a good misunderstanding- wait, you’re not telling me that you actually like that tennis guy…right?” 

you stop in your tracks, not saying a word. nayeon cleared the silence: “if you reckon you like the other guy, let jeon jungkook know that this was all a misunderstanding.”

 “that's exactly what i wanted to do, see?” you unlock and show her the texts. “i asked him if he wanted to go out for boba, so i could explain this to him in person, but he rejected and said he has training.” 

he rejected your offer that day, and the day after. 

neyeon jumps up when you read the “sorry, i also can’t do today.” text out: “what the heck!!!! there’s no way he’s that busy?? oh my gosh- he’s a fuckboy!! he’s a literal f-boy that can’t make enough time for all his girls-” 

excellent idea, nayeon. 

you sigh and nayeon notices how your shoulders dropped slightly.

“y/n, how about you tell the tennis guy then, cause you also have some misunderstandings with him, clear the air with him, and he can let jeon jungkook know since he obviously doesn’t have time for you”

you walk into the dining hall, only searching for the silhouette of one specific person. and there he is, sitting alone, enjoying a burger. you walk to the seat across from him, “hey.” the pair of deer eyes lands on you, and he raises an eyebrow. “what?” 

you move at the speed of a snail, taking a seat in front of him: “i have things to tell you.” 

the tennis boy puts down his meal, and slowly squeezes a sentence out his mouth. “then tell me.”

“i was talking about you because you didn’t tuck in your shirt properly the other day.”

“........i wore it like that on purpose.”

“ i was feeding that cat ages ago, like, wayyyy before you did.”

he brought the burger to his mouth, took another bite: “yup. got it.”

“okay then,” you took a deep breath, “i don’t like jeon jungkook, it was all because you misunderstood me, and thought i had a crush on you- which i do not!” you hear a soft chuckle leave his mouth. dude? “what are you laughing about.”

he swallows his bite. “nothing, you go on.”

“i’m wondering if you can go explain this to jeon jungkook….for me?” 

he looks up at you once again. “why should i go explain this to him? you should go yourself.” gosh, he is insufferable. “i really would love to! but i’ve asked to see him multiple times, but he says he is busy every single time!” 

another light chuckle. 

“don’t even laugh.” you feel humiliated, what is the matter? “i’m being deadly serious, can you literally take me seriously?” 

“do you know why you can never seem to ask him out?” the boy stares into your eyes with a hinting glance that you don’t specifically like.

you’re so confused, “no, i don’t know. but that’s literally not the point.”

“well, here’s the point.” he sips his coke and swiftly reaches into his backpack to take out his id, handing it to you. you take the id into your hands and stare at it for a while. “huh?” 

then is hits you, you don’t even know this guy's name. your eyes glance over the id, from the photo to his name..back to his id. his warm dark brown hair looking soft, his doe eyes are soft and very, very pretty. a mole at the tip of his nose, and one very visible mole perfectly under his pouty lips. did you mention he has a perfect smile? 

you almost get sucked into the photo when you realise something. huh?

you unwillingly unglue your eyes from the id and place them onto the face that is currently in front of you. he has the same smile from the id on his face right now. “what does your id mean?” he runs a hand through his perfect locks, “you still don’t know my name?”

something in you clicked. “why are you also named jeon jungkook??” this time, he lets out an even bigger laugh. “i’m the jeon jungkook.” you feel slightly sick. “.....what.”

“who did you even think jeon jungkook was then?”

“i don’t know??? i told you i’m just pretending to like this jeon jungkook person…”

jungkook raises an eyebrow, “you’re not doing much background check before pretending to like them, huh?”

his eyes still fixed on you, now with a teasing tone:” actually you misunderstood in the first place, i never thought you even had a crush on me, until you came up to me and told me that you like this jeon jungkook guy. i was utterly confused, like i thought you were using some creative way to confess to me, get my attention or something.” 

“oh my gosh i did not!” you feel so much embarrassment for yourself, even second-hand embarrassment at this point. jungkook continued: “and then i thought maybe you liked one of my friends, but just got the name wrong. but every single time when i bumped into you, you always seemed to be looking at me first, right?” 

all the blood rushed from your body to your face, and you felt your cheeks flush up. “did not!!!” 

“sure did, doll.” 

“no! see! like it’s all a misunderstanding! you have mistaken me for liking you. it’s not that deep.” you realise you’re extremely loud, causing you to lower your voice to a more softer tone.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” you huff in disagreement, then you realised that you’re not only here to get these words straight but to also admit that you do like him a tad bit….not deny it completely! 

“then who’s number did you give me?”

“mine.”

“okay, so you’ve been playing me” 

“hm?”

“you knew i must’ve gotten something muddled up, but you still text me every day? you’re still giving me snacks? you’re still flirting with me?”

“that’s me being polite,” he mumbled under his breath.

“okay so you do this with everyone.”

“i don’t normally take stuff from other people, or give my number or whatever?”

“then why me?”

“since you’re the one with the biggest crush on me, so i had to be quite courteous.” 

“no. shut up.”

you can’t get yourself to be convinced that you don’t like him, just like how you couldn’t convince yourself that he doesn’t think you had a fat schoolgirl crush on him.

you don’t know what jeon jungkook wants from you! 

after that conversation, it’s like he’s even more convinced that you are in love with him. every time you enter the lunch hall, he spots you instantly, raises an eyebrow gesturing for you to sit next to the empty seat next to him. (as if saying: “here’s your chance to sit next to me, babe.”) when you ran into him in the campus library, he would knit his brows and playfully ask something like “how did you know i was going to be here?”

as if you’re tracking his location or something!!

the next basketball game came very soon. the day of the basketball game you had received a text from him giving you the time of the game and what court it was going to be at bright and early. as if he was certain you were going to go, douche. 

well…that afternoon you showed up with a baseball cap, trying to hide in the crowd. there were way more people this time, how is that even possible? when you got to lay your eyes on him, he was on his phone in the corner, while his teammates were warming up. a little delusional thought popped up in your head. he’s probably sending you a text message…? a notification sound ruined your thought. you feel the corners of your mouth slowly raise as you pulled out your phone from the butt pocket of your jeans.

“Hey! It’s Duolingo.

Make your screen time count. Take a quick Japanese lesson.”

what. you feel a little irritated as you lock your screen and before aggressively shoving your phone back into your pocket, you raise your head to search for jungkook when you meet eyes with him. you didn’t even have to search for him, he was already eyeing you.  his eyes teasingly dart from you to your phone in your hand. dude. 

you were fantasizing about yourself receiving a “where are you” text so you can hit him with a simple and petty  “i’m not coming”!!!!

he went straight into warming up after that short exchanging looks with you, one shot and the crowd of girls starts cheering like there’s no tomorrow. try hard. attention seeker. show off. you think to yourself when you shoot him a dirty glance from the crowd. it’s like he catches that look instantly, jungkook hands the ball to his teammates, and goes back to sitting on the bench in silence. you smile to yourself.

the game finishes and you drag nayeon to sprint out of the court before the herd of people makes it extra difficult. this time, another notification.

jung fking kook : group dinner, u and ur friend wanna come?

you stop in your tracks and text back: nah, i dont even know your friends.

text sent. you and nayeon start walking back when footsteps of someone running up from behind distract you. a large hand grabs your arm and turns you around in a swift motion. 

there he stood, still slightly glowy after the intense game. his eyes looked extra soft and bright under the road light. “let’s go together?” 

how can you ever reject him?

you, nayeon and jungkook went to a hot pot eatery nearby, and you wondered the entire way there if would be so darn awkward when you saw his friends. but thank god, they were way too energetic, to the point they almost didn’t even see you three walk in. jungkook insisted on introducing you to his friends, making sure each and one of his friends greeted you. you leaned closer to him and muttered “how do you know my name?” he whispered back. “not everyone is like you y/n.”

that’s when you figured, maybe he did not tell his friends about the ridiculous things you’ve said and done, since all of them greeted you and nayeon with large smiles. that calmed you down a whole lot. except the blonde boy, park jimin. he seemed like he wanted to jokingly say something, but swallowed his words when jungkook gave him a good glance. 

after dinner, nayeon made some excuses and said she had to leave early while shooting you many knowing looks and childish eyebrow raises. you stand outside of the restaurant while the boys pay the check. this night has never felt so calm on your skin before. you wanted to say bye to jungkook before leaving. but the second the boys came out of the restaurant, the same warm hand placed itself on your arm. “i’ll walk you back.” 

okay. it’s only like 5 minutes but whatever.

there were more people than you expected on the road. usually, you will not pay any attention to the people passing by but maybe because you were walking with jungkook tonight, it seemed like every goddamn couple in the world was next to you two. and everyone recognised jeon jungkook. of course, they did.

he grabbed your hand gently and decided to walk into a dark alleyway. you’ve never realised how nice his hands felt wrapped around your own. in the darkness, you can hear his faint breathing next to you. “lulu used to hunt for mice here.” he broke the comfortable silence. 

you never knew he started addressing her as lulu too. 

“and she had a lover that lived in one of these houses, they used to hang out here,” you added.

“y/n, how do you even know that?”

“i told you i was feeding lulu way before you.” you comment, this is totally a competition now.

you hear him lightly laugh in the darkness. 

the 5-minute walk took at least double the time to get there, some streetlights outside your dorm are old and broken, causing a dim-lit atmosphere. you spot a couple on the side of the street making out. if you walked even closer, you could probably even hear the sickening sounds. jungkook looked extra calm as if he could not hear anything, he walked you to the door and spoke. “you’re here.”

you don’t know what to reply to that. 

“right. i’m home.”

and he turned and walked away.

???

“that’s it?”

“that’s fucking it?:”

nayeon just opened a bag of barbeque chips, getting ready to hear about everything that went down, preparing to be surprised. she sighed to herself. she didn’t even get to get comfortable on your bed!

“he didn’t say anything? you two didn’t even hug?”

you thought to yourself before answering, “we talked about lulu. and that's it.”

“oh my days.” nayeon shakes her head in disapproval “he introduced you to his friends, what is in that little head of his?!” 

“i genuinely don’t know.” you feel a twinge of sadness growing in your chest, “maybe we overanalyzed this.” 

if this is what it feels like to like somebody, you’d rather stay single for the rest of your life. 

you decided to have a good, relaxing shower to get your mind off things. when getting into your bed, you receive a text. 

jung fking kook: breakfast tmrw?

you did not feel like replying, leaving the message read. 

jung fking kook: or lunch? both?

you felt so aggravated, your fingers moving so fast to type your thoughts out without thinking about what you wanted to say.

y/n: you’re so bloody confusing, are you currently demonstrating to me how a guy acts when they know a girl likes them or are you showing me what a guy does when they actually like someone? because this is getting so damn tiring for me, jungkook.

no emojis. you’re letting him know this is bloody serious. 

the grey typing icon pops up from the bottom of the screen, then disappears. 

audio message.

you almost jump off your bed to grab your earphones. popping the earbuds into your ears, you hear the familiar voice. before the voice could even warm your heart up, it felt like a cold splash of water in your face instead.

“hey, look im so sorry, i just- i just don’t know how to tell you this.” 

rejection tastes great, doesn’t it!

another audio message followed up. you disconnected your earphones, you do not have time for this rejection anymore.

jung fking kook: listen to it.

y/n: i’m tired. goodnight.

after typing the “good night” message out, you felt your curiosity eating you up. you pop an earbud into your ear, and press play.

“you’re correct, this is exactly what i’m doing. what a guy does when they genuinely like somebody.” you gasp and before you could even reply, an incoming call from jungkook comes in. 

“hi.”

“hi.”

“did you open it?”

you didn’t know how to respond. you panicked. are you going to say yeah i heard you just say you like me or are you going to play dumb like no bro what did u say haha

“yeah.”

“i knew it.”

“okay jungkook.”

“i’m downstairs.”

“you’re what?!”

“yeah. come down.”

jeon jungkook is going to be the death of you. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | monster fucking

pairing | steve rogers x fairy!reader

warnings | me knowing nothing about fairies. reader is in "fairy heat"? bruce captured reader (potentially inhumane conditions for fairy-keeping?) soft sweet steve. size kink LOL. th-thumb riding? fingering. p-pinky fucking? stretching. multiple orgasms. squirting. praise and encouragement that makes me feral. pity kink? is that a thing? if it is, i think i have it.

word count | 1,225

an | i've never written monster fucking (or really anything super fantasy-oriented) so please be kind!! wasn't expecting to get sooo into this, but like there's just something about reader being literally so tiny that steve's pinky stuffs her to the brim that's making me all 🥲🫠😩

what if bruce was off working in some top-secret remote location and brought you back with him: a sweet little fairy he'd captured while working out in the field, just as you were entering your fairy heat 🫠

maybe you're just about 7 inches tall, with the body/proportions of a grown young woman. he's been conducting research on your species for quite some time, so he's able to determine basics like your age, your likely place of origin, etc. he's thrilled to have caught you at the start of your heat

what's your fairy heat? i made that part up simple, it's the span of several days that occur around the same time every month when your body's at its prime and looking to breed. you become insatiably horny, almost to the point of it being debilitating, and all you can focus on during your excruciating waking moments is fucking yourself on anything of appropriate size in sight

you're kept in some sort of incubator in his lab, a glass box that's a few feet by a few feet wide and deep. the bottom of the enclosure is made of a soft cushiony material, making any spot a good spot to lay down and rest. miniature food and water bowls are set out for you, and a bright lamp hanging from the ceiling of the box shines 12 hours a day. it's a pretty miserable existence, your makeshift habitat nothing close to the wide open flower fields and prairies you're used to, but it allows the scientist to observe you closely without any distractions or interfering variables. and since you're in heat, you aren't too worried about where you are or who's taken you. all you can do is writhe around on the soft floor of the incubator in desperate, horny agony

maybe one day bruce is out of the lab, but he told steve he could come check out his new findings and maybe keep you company if you'd let him. when he enters the room and sees you lying there, squirming and struggling weakly, of course the supersoldier's heart is instantly hurting for you 🥺

he approaches the incubator slowly, not wanting to startle you. but pretty quickly he realizes that you're paying him no mind; you're too preoccupied with your discomfort. he takes his time observing you, standing right in front of the glass box as his huge frame towers over you. bruce told him a little about your condition and the science behind it. it made him blush, but he accepted it like he would learning about any other species and their unique reproductive habits

"poor thing," he hums to himself as he watches your tiny body wriggle in distress. he's stunned by how pretty you are. you have the most delicate little face, and your translucent wings with their iridescent shimmer look like something straight out of a fairytale movie. you're completely naked- bruce removed your scraps of moss carpeting and leaf clothing when he found you. but it's not strange or offputting in the slightest to steve. he just thinks you're beautiful, such a stunning little creature that seems too precious for this world 💕

he notices the plugged openings in the glass wall that allow bruce to reach in and work inside the enclosure. carefully removing the rubber inserts, he reaches a large hand in, wanting to offer you some comfort if you'll take it. you're so tiny that you could nearly crawl right into the palm of his hand and curl up if you wanted to

but snuggles are the last thing you're looking for in this moment. when you see his huge hand lying there, palm up just a short distance away from you, you weakly crawl over, wings drooping in exhaustion. you couldn't fly at the moment if you tried

steve is a little surprised as you hoist yourself up onto his thumb, your tiny legs dangling on either side of it. it only takes him a moment to realize what you're doing- his cheeks turn bright red as you begin rolling your hips desperately, a faint feeling of wetness forming on the pad of his finger as you leak your glistening juices all over him

"oh doll-" his voice is dripping with pity and concern. he doesn't try to stop you, just watches as you so needily try to relieve yourself. as strange as the situation is, he can't help but find your primal actions endearing, in a way

he continues watching sympathetically as you grind your tiny little pussy down against his large digit. his heart swells at the way you place your hands down in front of you, trying to keep yourself upright as you rock at a steady pace. just a few moments later, he sees your little body spasming and realizes you've reached orgasm by merely riding along on his finger. "oh my," he hums thoughtfully, watching as your precious little toes curl in delight

your face is much happier after your climax. steve watches curiously to see what you'll do next, staying silent as you climb off of his thumb and move to the other end of his splayed-out fingers. as you lie yourself down on your back and spread your legs out on either side of his pinky, he's again blushing deeply. "o-oh, hey little one-"

he watches as you begin pushing down to press the tip of his smallest finger up against your leaking hole. seeing how much you struggle to maneuver against him, steve takes even more pity on you. "here, doll. let me help," he decides, bringing his other arm through the unused hole in the glass. he moves it over to lift your back up gently, supporting you in a sitting position as he carefully begins easing his smallest digit up into you, smiling affectionately as you let out a soft sigh of relief

"there you go. that's it," he's murmuring encouragingly as he carefully fucks you with his pinky. your little pussy is so tight around him, he's surprised he's able to fit. but you're taking him so well, and there's something so sweet about the way you look as you sit here in his hands, letting him stretch you out over the smallest finger he has 💕

"good, just like that" "such a pretty little thing you are" "that feel good, doll?" "just keep taking it, sweetheart" "so good for me, keep going" he's not sure if you can understand his words, but there's something he finds satisfying about talking to you this way

he can somehow feel your second orgasm approaching, your walls growing a bit tighter around him as he works up his pace a little more to carry you over the edge. "there," he's humming proudly, smiling as you manage to squirt out forcefully against him. your come ✨literally sparkles✨ as it coats his finger

as you're floating down from your high, he strokes your hair with his thumb as you lean up against the rest of his hand that's behind you. your eyes are droopy, your body no longer writhing in discomfort. as questionable as his actions might've been, it's clear he's taken care of much of your discomfort- at least for now

whyyy was this hot 🫠🫠 maybe i need to write fantasy shit more often lol

[norrizzandpia]

Let Me Be Happy. Don’t Be Mean. (LN4)

Summary: Y/n is not experienced in the realm of dating. For years, she has convinced herself that no man sees her as lovable. So, when a guy steps into the picture who checks off all the boxes, making her feel secure in his feelings towards her, she’s elated. However, when she goes to share in the excitement with her best friend, he ruins it all, along with it her happiness, by uttering three small words.

Warnings: language, mentions of grinding

Note: this is very very little women coded but nobody is related. You’ll see. Once again, this is a sad ending, but a happy one will be up soon. I just wanted to get something out to you guys because it’s been so long since i posted and im finally feeling up to returning to you all. Genuinely, i feel like this isn’t my greatest greatest work, nothing quite worthy of a comeback fic, but i hope that doesn’t deter you all <3 ill be back with some of my regular abilities soon just a bit rusty so forgive me lol

Y/n had never had a boyfriend. There were failed talking stages and men who stole longer-than-preferred glances at her, but there was never an official, labeled and definite boyfriend. A part of her life which her friends always teased her for, a part of her life which she was secretly so deeply insecure about. Throughout her twenty-two years spent on Earth, she had been told that she was intimidating, that she was “too pretty” to be approached, but, as high school passed and she graduated college without anyone putting in effort, the passing thoughts of “something is wrong with me” took hold. Maybe it was the way she dressed, or the fact she liked musicals; maybe it was the friends she hung out with, or the jokes she made; maybe it was her looks, or her smile; maybe her laugh was obnoxious, or she didn’t seem like girlfriend material. She could never escape the feeling that she was inadequate, that somehow, over the years, she had molded herself into a person that no one else would stick around for romantically. Somehow, she wound up unloveable.

Lando, in the beginning, was a maybe. Becoming friends with him was, if you asked her, one of the scariest things she had ever embarked on in her life. Famous, rich, and successful Lando Norris loved her company, even adding in a few questionable and suggestive comments in the midst of it all. Her friends, however relentless, had continuously talked about the possibility of Lando liking her, but she shut it down every time. With the way she had forced her brain to be wired, Lando would never see her as more than a friend. The comments about how beautiful he thought she was, though, she could never explain.

“Are you going to answer me or what?” Y/n’s eyes focused back to the man in her mind, sitting before her at his kitchen table and staring at her as if she had died and came back to life.

She leaned her body against the counter, “Yeah, sorry. What’d you say?”

He scoffed and laughed all at once, “You didn’t hear anything I just said? Are you okay?”

His eyes flitting over her face made her chuckle and shake her head, “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about the upcoming projects I have for work.”

He nodded, though his slightly furrowed eyebrows portrayed confusion, “Okay… Well, Max invited us to go out tonight. There’s a new club a few blocks down that he got on the VIP list for. You in?”

Deciding that maybe going out would somehow remedy the strong belief that no man wanted her, Y/n nodded.

—

“Can you hear me?!” Lando screamed into Max’s ear. His best friend looked at him, a drink in both their hands, and laughed.

“Yes, I can hear you, dumbass! When you yell right in my eardrum, it’s hard not to! What’s up?”

Lando was hesitant before leaning in once more, his tone lowered an octave, “Who is that dancing with Y/n?”

Max followed Lando’s eyeline, finding his good friend grinding up against a man he couldn’t even recognize.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. At least, she’s having fun!” His laughter at his comment died down when he turned his head to see Lando pouting.

Max scoffed, “Mate, you can’t be upset with her venturing out. She doesn’t even know you think of her that way!”

Lando shook his head, “I don’t see her that way.”

Max shoved his shoulder, “All I hear is denial, denial, and fucking denial. When you wake up one morning and find out you loved her all along, don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re too late because she’s with someone else.”

Lando laughed it off, though the pit in his stomach made him want to puke up the alcohol he had consumed for the night. Maybe he had just had one too many, he told himself.

Yeah, it was the alcohol consumption.

Max’s piercing gaze leveled with Lando’s, liquor coursing through the Brit’s veins as he said lowly, “I’m sick and tired of that bullshit.”

Lando rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max nodded feverishly, “Yes, you do! You know I can’t fucking stand the way you shun your feelings for her! I know it’s probably a dick move on my part to tell you how you feel, but if you keep dancing around her, you’re gonna lose her. I don’t want to see that for you.”

Lando shook his head briefly, coolness flowing from him as if Max’s words didn’t strike panic within his blood, “I’m not going to lose her, Max. I think alcohol makes you overdramatic.”

Max groaned and stomped away, liquid sloshing out of his glass as he retreated into the crowd. Lando’s eyes were left to fall back on his Y/n. The man’s hands were on her hips, swaying hers against his as he kissed her neck. He hated the sight and he didn’t know why.

Truthfully, he did know why.

—

“If a guy visits you at work with your favorite coffee order, does that mean he’s interested in you?” Y/n waltzed into the sunlit living room of Max’s apartment, Lando sprawled out on the couch as Max scrolled through his phone on a big chair in the corner.

“Uh, yes.” Max replied quickly, before Lando had the opportunity of selfishly saying no.

Holding her phone in one hand and the other balled in a fist, Y/n blurted, “Are you sure?”

Max pulled himself from his slouched position, looking at her intently and not daring to see the way Lando was eyeing him. He could feel the fiery gaze on his shoulder, “No man is going out of his way to buy you your favorite coffee and come see you at a corporate office for .2 seconds. Trust me, Y/n, the man likes you.”

She nodded her head side to side, “Mmm, maybe.”

”He’s right.” Lando murmured, a heavy heart as he watched her gaze snap to his, as if his thoughts on the subject convinced her more of what was right in front of her.

Max side-glanced him, a war in his head as he tried to decipher Lando and whatever he was trying to accomplish.

“You think?” She whispered, looking down at her phone when it buzzed. A blush across her cheeks made Lando’s heart squeeze.

Did she smile that way when he texted her?

Lando cleared his throat, “What’s this guy’s name? Is this the same guy you were dancing with at the club?”

She nodded, “Yeah, it is. His name is Chris.”

“Last name?” He continued, listening intently for the information.

Y/n laughed, “What? Are you going to Instagram-stalk him or something?”

Yes.

”No. Just curious.” He smiled lightly. All the while, Max was rolling his eyes.

”Chris Greenberg.” She smiled back, a moment between the two where Lando seemingly couldn’t tear his eyes off the grin displayed in front of him.

He sat back, “Alright, most generic name I��ve ever heard, but okay.”

She shook her head at Lando, the smile still on her face as she plopped on the couch beside him.

His arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, his hand toying with the ruffled fabric of her shirt. Lando tried not to fall into the mess of her in his mind yet the soft skin under his fingertips made his mind get away from him. He didn’t want it to be real. He didn’t want the morning where he woke up and he found out he was in love with his best friend to come.

But, he also couldn’t bear the thought of Chris touching her in the way he does. He willed himself not to think about Chris seeing her naked or taking care of her in the way Lando always had. Maybe he had never kissed her, but he had held her hand in moments of pain and he had been there for her when no boyfriends had the privilege of being able to show up. Lando had always been something to her and she had always been something to him, they both knew that.

He wanted her to stay single and he wanted her to stay his precious girl.

And suddenly, he couldn’t deny what he felt for her.

On the couch, with Max a few feet away from them and his fingers only lightly grazing her warmth, Lando’s eyes turned to her and he gave into the pull that he had been fighting for years.

A minute away from begging her to see him for what he needed her to, her phone lit up between them. One singular notification lit up the screen, her lock screen a picture of them two after he had gotten his Silverstone podium. A notification which was from Chris, a blushing emoji next to his name.

His mouth opened from the words he so recklessly wanted to say, he realized what he was about to do: confessing feelings he found out about five seconds ago while Max was sitting next to them. So embarrassed and slowly reaching a state of distraught, Lando retracted his arm from her body.

Y/n grabbed her phone from the space between their legs, opened her phone, and giggled at whatever stared back at her.

Lando knew his face said it all. He was always facially expressive. If she had turned her head, or Max, they would’ve seen it written all over his face. The sickening realization that he was in love with the girl sitting beside him.

Part of him loved that they weren’t paying attention to him, but another part wished she would move her head a few centimeters, catch his eyes, and let him study the way she took his breath away.

—

“Where are you going?” Lando stumbled over his feet as he ran to the door. Y/n in a black, tight dress looking stunning had alarms going off in his head.

Her hand on the door knob, “A date.”

“Why?”

She laughed slowly, “Um, because? Chris asked me? I said yes?”

Lando’s hands rested on his hips, gray sweatpants slugging low on his waist as he stared at her, “Where’s he taking you?”

She mirrored his stance, “Why?”

He scoffed, “Because! I should know where you are! What if he tries to kill you and nobody knows your location?”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and opened the door. In the crack, Lando could see Chris standing against his car with flowers in his hand, looking like everything Y/n deserves and more. Chilling as he realized he’s trying to fight something that is not meant for him. Y/n doesn’t deserve him. She deserves someone who will sleep next to her every night, who won’t leave her every weekend for their job. She deserves someone who is available and dependable. He isn’t that. He will never be that. Chris already is that.

“I will be fine, Lan. Thank you for worrying, but Chris is a nice guy.” She smiled, not giving him room to argue as she slipped out and closed the door.

He stared at the wood for a moment or two, hearing her giggles from outside and knowing how taken she sounded. He wanted her to turn around, to open the door back up and say something that would give him confirmation that Max wasn’t right; that he didn’t realize too late the things he felt for her.

She would never come to the door and Lando would, after fifteen minutes of waiting and hearing the tires drive away, slink back to his bed.

—

She came to the door. Knocking frantically and rambling the moment Lando opened it, Y/n burst into his apartment.

Lando’s hands raised in the air, “Woah, woah, woah, slow down. I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

He watched her face light up before she took a deep breath and withheld his favorite smile, “The date went so amazing, Lan! He is so considerate and… and he listens! Lando, he sat there and listened to me ramble about my family, my friends, and everything else about my life and then asked me questions about the things I was mentioning! He likes the same things I do and he’s so cute and I can genuinely feel like he really likes me this time! He puts in the effort! He! Puts! In! The! Effort! Lando! Seriously, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy!”

Even though he knew it before answering the door, her bursting summary of this perfect guy solidified it for him.

She came to the door, but she didn’t come for him.

He stared at her, his heart emptied out of hope as he watched her big smile dwindle down.

”Why don’t you look happy for me?” She cocked her head as he stared back at her, a dead expression adorning his usually calm face.

”I love you.”

Lando watched her face drop, a hopeful smile morphing into a void. Her bag dropped to her feet and she leaned her head forward, “Stop.”

He blinked at her, “What?”

She looked back up at him, “Stop, Lando. Don’t say that.”

He scoffed, “It’s true!”

Glistening tears pooled in her eyes, “Lando, stop. Don’t be mean.”

He shook his head, “Y/n, I’m not being mean. I’m being honest.”

She roughly wiped the wetness that had fallen to her cheeks before looking at him with such a deadly gaze, “No, you aren’t! This is so fucking selfish of you! For once, I’ve found someone that will put in the effort and that I can genuinely trust in making the right decisions when it comes to me! And, now, here you fucking are, telling me you love me! It’s fucking cruel! Can you just let me be happy just this once? Why can’t I get my chance to be in love? You’ve experienced it! Why can’t you just let me do it?!”

He took a step closer to her and she took one back, “I do want you to be happy! I want you to be with me!”

She crossed her arms, “Oh, and you’re going to make me happy?”

“I will try.” He whispered.

She memorized the heels strapped around her feet, “Not good enough.”

He reared back, “What?”

She willed her eyes to meet his, “Not. Good. Enough. Chris will be good to me, I know that. I can’t trust that you’ll be good to me or be good to me until you get bored and find someone else to have fun with.”

”Is that what you think you are to me?” He asked, his heart reaching out for her, but breaking into pieces for how she views herself in his life before he can get there.

She looked up at him, eyes reddening under the tears, “If I meant something to you, if you loved me, you’d want me to be with the safe option.”

His hand trailed up her arm as tears fell from his cheeks similarly to hers, “I can be the safe option.”

”No, Lando. No, you can’t. I want Chris. I can’t deal with whatever life crisis you’re in the midst of right now.”

He groaned, “It’s not a life crisis. It’s me realizing what you truly mean to me.”

She waved her hand, “Sure, Lando.”

She moved away from his cornering, taking steps toward the door before Lando stopped her, “Don’t tell me I don’t love you.”

”I’m going to. I won’t give up the first guy to genuinely show me I mean something deeply to him for someone else who just apparently figured out they loved me after years of spending time together.” She continued by confirming his deepest fears, “You’re not reliable. You can't always be there when I need you to. That’s fine. I understand, but I’m not going to put myself in a spot to get hurt for you.”

He pleaded with her, “Why can’t you just give me a chance?”

”It’s not worth it, Lando.” She stared at him, “Let me be happy.”

”You can be happy with me.”

She shook her head, “Everything looks clearer in the morning, including your feelings for me.”

”What does that even mean?” He questioned, her form retreating to the door and practically screaming at him to let her go.

She sighed, “I’m sure you’re just tired. I’m sure you don’t mean any of this. How could you? Lando, you could get anyone. I’m not the girl you choose.”

Tears falling harder, he exhaled a quick breath, “You are the girl I choose!”

”And how long until I’m not?”

A silence followed, one that gave her enough time to open the door and leave. What was supposed to be the start of a new chapter for her turned into a reference to a past one.

The past chapter in her life where she loved Lando just as he described to her seconds before and a chapter where she convinced herself he would never feel the same. Still, she believed he never would. That what he had said to her was an episode, some dream he was sleep-talking in.

Lando would never pick her in the long run.

Even when he said he would.

[s6lars]

dress.

a harmless prank leaves jamal acting unexpectedly and you're determind to find out why — even if it forces you to get dangerously close. (wc: 7.5k)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jm42 x reader, ft. mathys tel

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. smut — mdni! with a good chunk of plot, jealous brother’s bsf jamal.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cursing, drinking, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering + more

𝐀/𝐍. requested here, thank you for waiting patiently anon !! this is also my first time writing in months, i'm so terribly sorry that i'm rusty and it might not be my greatest work. but i hope you enjoy ! (also this is not proofread lol)

“Fuck!” you groan, examining the plastic bag in your hands.

“What? What’s wrong?” You chew on on your bottom lip, setting the bag on your thighs where you kneeled on the floor. You pick up your phone, flipping the camera so your friend could see on Facetime.

“They sent me the wrong one.”

Nothing destresses you quite as much as online shopping, and with your finals finished a few days ago, you’d gone crazy on the internet — fitting as much as your cart would allow it. The stack of boxes in your room began to pile as the orders came in one by one, and once they all did, you treated yourself to your own version of Christmas.

“Which one did you get originally?” your friend, Andrea, asks. You’ve been giving her an unboxing of everything you’d bought for yourself, opening packages on your bedroom floor with your speaker blasting Drake in the back.

“I ordered this in green, they gave it to me in black.” 

“Oh. Well, at least it’s the same dress right?” Andrea takes a bite out of the donut she’s eating. “I still think it looks nice.” “Yeah, me too. But I already have, like, 3 other black dresses,” you sigh.

“I think you should still try it on.” “You think?” “Yeah, why not? It’s just in a different color anyway.” Andrea’s right. You’re not really in the mood to go through the hassle of online returns and back-and-forth conversations with the seller. 

You leave your phone on your bedroom floor to get changed off-camera, standing in front of your mirror. The dress feels promising as you pull it out of the bag — it’s strapless, jet black in color with a few cutouts on the side joined by metal rings, exposing your sides. It feels smooth as you slide it on, the stretchy material hugging your curves and the hem stopping on your mid thighs.

“So…” You pick up your phone, showing the dress off to Andrea. “How does it look?”

Andrea gasps in awe, making you giggle at her reaction. “Oh my god, I think I’m liking this one the most so far,” she raves, and you look to the pile of the other dresses you’d bought on your floor.

You adjust the dress, smoothing it out, pulling the hem lower. The dress is gorgeous, hugging you in all the right places. You check yourself out in the mirror, feeling more confident the longer you have it on.

“This is so nice, actually. Who even cares about the color anymore, I’m obsessed,” you gush.

“Mhm. And you can wear it with that purse you bought, and with the gold jewelry as well,” Andrea suggests, and you hum in agreement. As she’s talking, you reach for your water bottle on your nightstand, disappointed when you realize it’s empty. “Hey, I’m gonna fill up my water, give me a sec,” you state, muting yourself and tossing your phone on your bed.

You waltz in the kitchen, bringing your speaker with you, taking advantage of the fact that you’re home alone. You incoherently hum along to SZA, waiting for your bottle to be filled — and a loud noise erupts from behind where you stood.

“BOO!” 

You shriek, body jolting forward, causing some of the water to spill on your dress and your speaker to almost fall loose from your grip.

“What the fu— Oh my god, J.” You’re met with familiar brown eyes as you turned around, seeing Jamal with his hands flat on the kitchen island where he’d slammed them. He giggles at your annoyance. 

To most, Jamal is Bayern’s starboy, a young player dazzling in the world of football. To you, he’s your brother’s best friend, and someone who shows up unannounced to your house a lot. Your older brother Noah works in the industry as an agent, and the two of them met many years ago as teenagers. Now, they’re close as ever — so close, that Noah trusts him enough to give him a spare keycard to your shared apartment.

You met Jamal not long after they hit it off, and you can safely say you’ve also become friends with him now.

Just friends. That’s all you’ll ever be.

Like Noah has stressed multiple times before.

You grab a towel, dabbing the wet spot on your dress. “What do you want, J?”

“Is Noah home?” “No. He went to the gym,” you respond, groaning, making sure your dissatisfaction is heard loud and clear. Once you do, you turn off the obnoxiously loud speaker that prevented you from hearing his entrance. 

“Without me?”

“Yeah, he needed the time alone, clearly,” you snap back, circling around the kitchen island to face him. As you do, Jamal’s eyes trail down your body, your dress now revealed, his face twisting in a mix of confusion and awe. 

“Bit early for a night out, no?” He says, clearly referencing to your dress. He’d be right, it’s only the early evening.

You look down at your dress before meeting his eyes again, seeing him shift uncomfortably. “Who said this was for a night out?”

He cocks his head to the side. “It’s not?”

The devil on your shoulder is telling you to get back at him for almost ruining your dress and breaking your speaker. If he can show up unannounced, why can’t you lie and pull a few strings? “No… it’s for a date.”

You lie straight through your teeth, making up a story as you go. Jamal’s jaw falls slack, like he’s about to say something, but then it closes before he does.

“A… date?” He heard you the first time. He just wants to know if you’re being serious.

And you keep pretending that you are. “Yeah, a date. Why’s that so shocking?” You fold your arms, leaning against the kitchen island.

Jamal pauses. “With who?” While you’re biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing, he’s having none of it. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw tense as he questions you.

“With this guy from uni. He’s just so sweet,” you sigh dreamily for dramatic effect, dragging the gimmick as long as you could. “We’ve been talking for a while and now he wants to get serious.” “Serious?” 

“...Yeah. I really think we could be a thing.” Your face falters at Jamal’s deadpan response. You’re only joking with him, but even if you weren’t, why is the mention of a date getting him like this?

You succesfully pulled his strings— but you don’t know if you should be happy or not. Jamal looks at you, almost in offense, and you can practically see the steam coming off of his ears. You’ve known him for a while, and yet this is the first you’ve seen of him like this.

“Tell Noah I’m not hanging out today.” Jamal storms out the kitchen, your mouth falling agape at his reaction. You trail behind him, worried that you took it too far.

“What? No, Jamal wait—” He doesn’t spare a single glance as he marches out the door, slamming it in your face, sending the hinges rattling. You’re frozen in your spot, unable to move or even process what just happened for a few moments before you’re dragging yourself back to your room, still slightly shaken.

You grab your phone and unmute yourself, still seeing Andrea on the line.

“Hey.” 

“Hey, what took you so long?” She notices the startled look in your eyes, sitting up in her bed.

“Sorry. Jamal … came over earlier. It was weird,” you say, slumping against your headboard.

“Weird? Isn’t he your friend? Or a friend of your brother?”

“Yeah, but… well, I—” you exhale, taking the time to string your words properly. “I was joking around, but then he got really upset and stormed out,” you explain.

“What the hell?” “I know. I’ve never seen him that pissed off. Not because of me at least.”

“That’s so weird. All over a joke?” “Yeah.” “What a prick,” Andrea sneers.

“No, don’t say that.” You’re not sure why, but you don’t really want to tell Andrea that the joke in question involved you lying about going on a date. “Hey, I gotta go. Bye.” 

You abruptly end the call carelessly tossing your phone aside. Now that you’re alone, you stare at the ceiling, finally having the time to process the interaction. The mood has shifted now. An inkling creeps into your thoughts as to why Jamal got so defensive, but you shrug it off, terrified of its consequences, terrified it would manifest.

“It’s probably nothing,” you mumble to yourself. But is it? You’re tossing and turning in bed because something is telling you that it’s not just nothing, and you have to find out for yourself.

You have to talk to Jamal.

“You’re up early.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turn around to see Noah splayed on the living room couch, working on his laptop.

You take a sip from your mug, setting it down on the coffee table before replying. “And you’re home for once.”

Noah gets exceptionally busy during the transfer window. You’ve been getting used to spending weeks home alone, or only catching him in the early mornings or coming in late at night, but almost never when the sun was out. Part of you thinks it’s not just work that’s been holding up, though.

“You know how busy I get in January,” Noah says. He squints as he watches you sit adjacent to him, putting on your socks and shoes. “And where are you headed?”

You pause. “Just going on a walk.”

Noah doesn’t need to know that the walk in question is en route to Jamal’s house.

Last night, you went to bed uneasy, hoping you could sleep it off. You woke up this morning and nothing had changed, and that’s when you decided you had to talk to Jamal immediately or you’d explode by midday. Noah being home wasn’t part of your plans.

He’s always been a little protective, as all older brothers are to their sisters. You vividly recall when you first met Jamal at one of his infamous house parties— alone in the kitchen, getting drinks for your friends when he strolled in, starting a conversation. It was an instant connection, with you finding yourself taking your sweet time just to keep talking to him.

Of course, Noah barged in at one point, throwing his arm around you and escorting you out of the kitchen himself, not before interrogating you on your conversation with Jamal.

Although he’s loosened up since, you know Noah would start getting skeptical if you told him you were headed to Jamal’s place first thing in the morning. But what Noah doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Right, bye.” Just as you stand up to leave, Noah interrupts.

“Wait! Can you get some sandwiches from the café when you come back? Thanks!” 

“As long as you pay me back!” you chime, already halfway out the door.

The walk to Jamal’s place is a rare but not unfamiliar one. You live not too far away, and there have been countless times where you had to pick Noah up after a night out, so you knew the way well. You could’ve taken your car, but you decided you need the extra time for yourself, deciding on a walk.

You’re not really sure what you’re getting out of this. Your mind fluctuates between feeling like this is the right thing to do and the urge to turn back and buy those sandwiches Noah was talking about earlier.

But you never do, and now you’re standing in front of his doorway.

Unlike with your house, Jamal’s never given you a spare set of keys so you can waltz into his at any given moment. You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, your heart beating out of your chest as you do.

Silence. You ring the doorbell a few more times, hearing the soft pattering of footsteps behind the door. 

You fix your hair and adjust your clothes, awaiting Jamal’s arrival. 

Instead, you’re met with the sight of a woman when the door swings open.

A half-naked woman.

She looks slightly older than you, dressed in only a sports bra and sweats, her hair tussled like she just woke up. You’re both looking at each other up and down, confused. This is the first you two have seen of each other.

“Can I help you?” She’s the first to break the silence. You reluctantly meet her gaze. There’s a weird territorial atmosphere lingering between you two, like the person standing before you shouldn’t be here.

“Uh, I’m looking for Jamal,” you say, your voice coming out a lot shakier than you anticipated. A pit continues to grow in your stomach. You probably should have turned back home when you had the chance.

“Oh, he’s in the shower.”

Your heart drops. You’re not an idiot, and you’re no child— you can put two and two together. Neither is Jamal, and you know he probably hooks up with someone whenever he gets the chance. But why does that bother you so much? And why are you only feeling this way now?

You’re lost in your thoughts, and the woman waves a hand in front of your face, trying to pull you back to reality.. “Did you need anything? He’ll probably take a while.”

You shake your head, already getting ready to take off. “Just tell him I was joking yesterday.”

“Huh?” Turning around on your heels, you leave the woman hanging, walking away from the door. Whatever you were expecting to happen when you got to Jamal’s place, it surely isn’t this.

You glare straight ahead, not caring for whoever you bumped into. All you knew was just in that moment, you had to get as far away as possible from Jamal’s house. And so you did, marching as far as your legs would take you, until beads of sweat ran down your temples and your breathing turned heavy.

Maybe Noah was right in trying to put some distance between you two.

Meanwhile, Jamal dries himself off with a towel as he leaves his bathroom. He walks into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, passing by his front door, seeing the girl he picked up last night standing by.

She hears his footsteps as he comes down the stairs, turning to face him. “Morning, baby,” she coos, putting on the best lovey-dovey voice she could muster.

Jamal winces at the remark. “I’ll get you a taxi after you shower,” he replies, walking right past her and into the kitchen. The girl rolls her eyes, groaning silently. She doesn’t know why she keeps trying to get closer to him when all they’re doing this for is sex.

“Some girl came over while you were in the shower, by the way,” she brazenly states, hoping to get his attention for once. 

“Who?” “Like I know. She just came by and asked if you were here, and then told me to tell you that she was just joking yesterday?”

It works. Jamal stops dead in his tracks. “And what did she look like?” The girl starts describing how you looked from the short appearance you made earlier. The more she speaks, she sees the gears turning in Jamal’s head as he puts two and two together, ultimately realizing that you had gone all the way to his house just to talk to him.

He looks at the girl before him. She came all the way to his house, probably to apologize, just to be met with one of his random hookups who he barely even spoke to outside his bedroom.

Jamal’s eyes widen in realization at how horribly he’d fucked up, abandoning his breakfast and rushing back up the stairs.

“Where are you going? Who is she?” The girl asks, waving her hand to get his attention, though all her calls are ignored as he shoves his way into his room to go looking for his phone, unplugging it from where it was charging on his nightstand.

His fingers rapidly dart across the screen as he types out a message, a desperate attempt at reaching you before it was too late.

[07:42] jamal: did you come over earlier? [07:43] jamal: i promise it’s not what it looks like [07:43] jamal: we can talk if you want to [07:43] jamal: just the two of us

Your phone buzzes four seperate times as you stand in line at the café down the street from your apartment building. Sometime during your walk, Noah had transferred some money into your account for both breakfast and you figured you needed the distraction.

It didn’t last long as you pulled your phone from your pocket, seeing the notifications from Jamal poured in. You shut your eyes, collecting your emotions before you shoved it back in, fixing your hair in frustration.

Out of sight, out of mind. Jamal got his chance when you were at his doorstep, willing, and he you weren’t about to give him a second. The fact that he thinks you would sets something off in you.

He watches as his texts stay on delivered. Deep down, he knows you read them through your lockscreen, and now you were choosing to deliberately ignore him. He stares at the screen in defeat, before another text comes in.

[08:01] noah: you’re coming over tomorrow night yeah?

The party. Noah had invited him and some other players to hang out before the season started, a tradition that’s persisted in the friend group for years. It’s hosted at his place this time around, a golden oppportunity.

Jamal has to talk to you.

For the first time in his life, Jamal regrets going to a party.

He’s used to having a blast, used to being the man in any room he walks into, instantly greeted by faces both familiar and unfamiliar, desperate to show him around— desperate to be seen with him.

Now, he throws his head back agains the wall of Noah’s living room, drink in hand, asking himself why he even left the house today.

Jamal arrived extra early to his friend’s place, hoping to catch you in a moment alone before it got busy. To his dismay, Noah informed him that you’d been out since the morning. Then he had to help him clean. A total nightmare.

He’s not so sure if you knew he was coming today, or just so happened to not be at home. Whatever the reasoning, he’d rather not have turned up altogether had you not been here.

While he’s drinking away his sorrows, you’re pushing him out of your mind as you spent the day with your friends. Shopping, going to the spa, more shopping, bar hopping— it was a perfect day.

Your smile quickly faded when you came home and was greeted with a crowd of men in your living room.

“Hey! You’re home,” Noah greets, pulling you into a hug. He gives you a look of guilt as he sees your eyes squint in confusion, knowing he didn’t tell you he was inviting people over.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But I figured you’d be out the whole day!” he reasons. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, I hope you know that,” you sneer, and Noah can’t fight back. You scan the crowd, seeing a few familiar faces. If it wasn’t for them, you would have cussed him out right then and there.

He knows you’re tired from going out all day, he knows you just want to rest. “Okay, listen, this isn’t anything crazy, we’re just gonna drink and talk, no loud music or inviting more people. It’s just my friends.”

Friends. You scan the crowd once more. If Noah ever mentions anything about friends, one person is almost always involved.

Jamal. You lock eyes with him, he’s been staring at you from across the room since you walked in the door. There’s a mix of anger, frustration and yearning brewing in your chest. You want to shove him down a flight of stairs. You also want to run into his arms. It’s complicated.

Noah shoves a can of beer in your hands, and you finally look away from Jamal. “Here, take this. Loosen up,” he says before leaving. You sip away your unwanted emotions and wince like it stings going down. 

Knowing Jamal is here and with the intention of talking to you sparks an idea in your brain, washing a boost of confidence over your body. He can’t look away from you and you know it, and you had to take this chance in sending him a message.

Your message comes in the form of a youngster sitting on the living room couch.

“Mathys!” You approach him, arms wide to pull him in for a hug that seems a little too friendly in Jamal’s eyes. He grips his glass harder.

“Hey! When did you come in?” he asks, and you sit next to him, grazing your thigh against his. You take a big swig from the can, needing the extra tenacity.

“Not too long ago.” You start talking to Mathys about your day, striking up a normal conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch glimpses of Jamal glancing at you from time to time. It’s not enough. You want him to feel the way you did when you showed up on his doorstep the other day.

Mathys was happily recounting his encounter with some rapper he’d crossed paths with when you put your hand on his leg, rubbing his thigh up and down. You leaned in to his ear, covering your mouth to avoid Jamal from reading your lips. He jumps slightly at the motion, you’re never this close to him.

“Can I tell you something?” He nods, scared but intrigued.

“I’m trying to piss Jamal off. Will you help me?” Similarly to Jamal, you and Mathys have always been close friends. He’s younger than you, so you’ve always viewed him like a little brother more than anything, but that’s not to say you don’t appreciate his company. You knew he would definitely be down to help you tonight.

Mathys pulls away, searching deep in your eyes for certainty. He discovers you’re serious.

A smirk plays on his face as he nods slowly to himself. He’s not stupid, he quickly pieces things together. If he’s being honest, he’s always known something was going on between you and Jamal anyway. “Alright, alright. Deal.” “Deal, yeah? If anything I do gets too far, just tell me,” you assure.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be worth it in the end. Do what you must,” he says, winking.

It didn’t take long for the ball to start rolling. It starts off innocent — you laugh just a little too loud at one of his jokes, planting your palm on his chest as you do, playing with your hair. The small gesture has Jamal shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

It wasn’t enough.

You pull out your phone, asking Mathys if he wants a picture. He extends one arm behind you on the couch, leaning into you. Wrapping his shoulders with your free arm, you pushed your heads together, scooting closer to him, to the point where your legs were folded over his thighs. Jamal knows what you’re doing now, and it’s driving him to insanity. Yet, he stands there, unmoving.

It wasn’t enough.

The final straw came from Mathys. You tipped your drink as far back as you could, trying to get the last few sips from the can. A few stray drops landed on the corner of your mouth instead, dribbling down your chin as you raised your hand below it to make it stop. 

He reaches over to catch the beer with his thumb, cupping your face, gently swiping your lips.

Jamal storms out of the living room.

Mathys takes his hand off of you immediately afterwards, and you two share a laugh, feeling achieved. “Well, he’s really pissed now,” he remarks.

“Good.”

He glances at you in curiousity at your deadpan, sly response. He had fun doing this whole tidbit with you, but he doesn’t even know why you’re doing it in the first place. “What’d he even do to you for you to do this?”

“Long story,” you say it in a way that lets him know you’re not going to go into further detail. You stand up from the couch, bag in hand. “I’ll be in my room. Thanks Mathys, that was fun.” He winks at you, clicking his tongue in response.

You made the walk to you room with your head held high in victory. The message you were delivering was definitely heard by Jamal, loud and clear. He’s not the only one that gets to mess around with whoever he wants. 

You kick your heels off, throwing your bag on the floor and plopping down on the bed, scrolling on your phone. Tossing and turning, you ended up curled with your back facing the door, and that’s when it barges open.

“Hey.” You turn around, it’s Noah. You go back to scrolling on your phone.

“What do you want?” “I’m not gonna be at home tonight, yeah? Most of the guys already left anyway. Just wanted to let you know,” he says, rambling. “It’s just, work stuff…” You roll your eyes. Noah’s always been bad at keeping secrets, especially when it involves girls.

“Yes Noah, I’ll be fine alone while you go spend the night with that girl you met in Berlin. We all know you like her.” You don’t even have to look at Noah to know his mouth had fallen slack, the words being ripped from his throat.

“Man. That bad, huh?” Noah chuckles. “Alright, I’m leaving. Bye,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

A few minutes pass as you lied there unmoving. still scrolling through your feed when the door opens a second time. You hear the hinge creak open and the click of the knob as the person enters your room without saying a word.

You sit up straight, looking behind you. “Mathys? Is that y—” It’s Jamal. Daggers shoot from his eyes, watching you roll your eyes and go back to using your phone.

“What do you want, Jamal?” you groan. The fact that you’re not calling him by his usual nickname, not bothering to even spare a glance has his face contorting.

“Since when have you and Mathys been that close?” His voice is deep, interrogative, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t tense up at his tone, chills arising through your body.

You build up the courage to face him properly, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Why should I tell you about the people I’m hanging out with?”

“Hanging out?” he spits in disbelief, vitriol laced in his words.

“Yeah! Hanging out, Jamal, what’s so wrong about that? Huh?” you exclaim. You can’t believe the sheer hypocrisy in his words. “You’re one to judge, at least I was only talking to Mathys anyway.” “He had his hand around your neck and he was just gawking at your body the whole time, don’t act stupid!” he snaps back, raising his hands and dropping them to his sides.

You jump onto your feet. “At least I don’t go around fucking other girls as soon as one of them stops giving me attention!” Jamal’s eyes widen, offended. You both know what you were referring to.

“You told me you were going on a date with someone! You said he was the one — how the fuck was I supposed to know you were joking?!” He takes a few steps closer.

You struggle to find the right response, your mouth periodically opening and closing. He’s got a point. You hate that he does. “You didn’t even give me the chance to explain myself! You just stormed out of the house!”

“Yeah, of course! After hearing you say that, of course I did!” “Why?!” you ask, watching his eyes go wide, his mouth shut, unable (or maybe not wanting) to respond. “Tell me why.” Now it’s you who takes a step closer, and Jamal’s at arms length, causing you to look up at him as you speak.

He says nothing back. 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s what I thought,” you mumble. You move past him, lightly bumping your shoulders together as you do to convey your anger. You need to get a drink from the kitchen, and hopefully by the time you come back, Jamal will be gone.

Just as your fingers graze the doorknob, a strong grip gets a hold of your arm. It all happened so fast. One second you were facing the door, the next — your back hit the wall, and Jamal’s lips were on yours.

The kiss was hungry, one of Jamal’s hands on the back of your head, tilting it to kiss you deeper, the other on your waist. Your arms naturally wrapped around his neck, scratching the back of his head, pulling him closer.

One of Jamal’s knees slipped between your legs, rubbing against your crotch. A breathy moan escaped your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. It was a messy, desperate kiss — a clash of teeth and tongue, Jamal making up with his lips what he can’t with his voice.

Jamal runs his hands up and down your dress. Your dress — it’s the same one you wore a few days ago, when you first got into the argument. It’s driving him crazy and you know it, it’s evident in the way he trails his mouth lower to your neck and down to your exposed cleavage.

“Jl,” you whine, teetering on a plea. He presses his forehead against yours, watching your eyes trained on him, your lipstick smeared and loose strands flying from your hair. He don’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

“This dress looks so good on you.” It’s all he can say before he’s kissing you again, a lot softer this time around.

“Mhm. Wore it just for you,” you breathe in between kisses. “Now take it off, please.” Your voice, your words, they rush straight to his cock. 

“Jump,” he instructs, and you do. Jamal walks over to your bed, plopping you on the soft pillows, his lips moulding against yours the whole time. He presses kisses lower on your neck, sucking, biting, being sure to leave a trail of purple marks for to blossom tomorrow morning.

Jamal takes the cut of your dress in his hands, pulling the fabric down, groaning at the sight of you without a bra. He wastes no time in swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud, causing you to throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sucks and pulls with his teeth, moulding the other with his hands before switching, grinding down on your clothed core.

Once he’s satisified, he takes one last look at your tits — now glossy with his spit and marked purple, before climbing lower down your body. He bunches the material of your dress up your waist, exposing your panties to him.

Jamal takes hold of your legs, pressing a kiss to your crotch, smirking when your back arches, whining at the contact. 

“Fuck, don’t tease, please.” Your hand pushes his head closer to where you’re dripping, where you want him the most.

Jamal chuckles at your desperation, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them carelessly aside. He spreads your lips, cursing under his breath when he sees the string of wetness that’s accumulated.

“You’re soaked,” he says, planting delicate kisses to the inside of your thighs, intently watching how you jolt at each one.

“Jamal, please.” He loves it when you beg. 

“Shh, I know, baby.” And he finally licks one long strip up your pussy, relishing in the way a moan is punched from your lips. You’re lucky your brother is out for the night, because he’s certain it can be heard through the walls.

He plants a few more kisses before spreading your lips, delving his tongue in your hole. Your thighs clamp shut around his head, but his strength pries them open. He alternates between fucking you with his tongue and sucking your clit, swirling figure-eights on it.

You’re a writhing mess, your throat dry from moaning and calling his name over and over. Jamal never wants to stop hearing the pretty noises you make.

He continues to push his tongue in your cunt, using his thumb to circle your clit, doubling the pleasure. He explores your walls, finding the spongy spot that punches a particularly loud moan from your throat.

“Fuck! Don’t—ah—don’t stop,” you beg, and Jamal is happy to oblige. He moans into your pussy, the vibrations rushing through your body. He feels you get wetter by the second, your juices coating his mouth and running down the sheets.

Your breathing is short and erratic, your fingers tugging at his hair as your orgasm washes over you, cumming all over Jamal’s mouth. He licks the slick running down your inner thighs, pressing some final few kisses to your clit before hovering over you, meeting your eyes.

The sight of Jamal above you is nothing short of glorious — his chin glossy from your juices, his eyes blown out and his lips plump and swollen. He can say the same for you below him, once snappy and sarcastic now panting and ruined.

You cup his cheek, adorlingly gazing into his eyes before tasting yourself on his tongue. He takes your wrists, one by one, pinning them above your head with one hand.

“Need to make sure you can take me, baby,” he coos. “Is that okay?” You nod rapidly. You’d say yes to anything if he asked.

Jamal chuckles, his free hand trailing lower down your body and finding your clit. You’re still sensitive from your last orgasm, bucking up into his hand when he does.

“J—oh.” He slips a finger into your cunt, watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw falls agape as you do. He pumps slowly at first, feeling your pinned hands try to escape his grip, but he pushes them down harder.

After a few moments, he slips another one in, filling you with two digits. “Shit,” you whine, closing your eyes shut.

“You can take it, yeah?” he asks. 

“Mhm, I can take more, a lot more.” Jamal feels his cock throb in his pants, desperate to be freed. He picks up the pace, and you squirm beneath him, taking your bottom lip in your teeth.

Jamal pushes deeper, curling his fingers inside your walls. Every time he fucks into you, his palm rubs against your clit, only adding to the pleasure. Once he finds your sweet spot, he relentlessly goes faster, chasing your second orgasm.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you blabber, unable to focus on anything else than the feeling of Jamal’s fingers.

“Hey, look at me,” he instructs, and eyes shoot open on instinct, seeing his brown eyes bore into yours.

“Want to see how you look when you cum.” 

You struggle in keeping your eyes open but do so to the best of your ability, your chest heaving up and down as your moans get more sporadic. Jamal is lost in your eyes, his wrist starting to tire from his movements. After one rough push of his hands, shockwaves rippling through your body as your second orgasm washes over you.

Slick runs down your thighs, onto the bedsheets and on Jamal’s wrist. He pulls out, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact before he licks them clean, tasting every last drop. Jamal sits up on his heels and you follow suit, kneeling in front of him. You grab the hem of his shirt, quickly pushing it up and over his head, exposing his torso. You’re entranced by his physique, trailing your nails down his chest and abs. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you into a kiss.

“Fuck me, J,” you plead in between kisses, and how could he say no?

“Get on all fours.” You flip over, arching your back, hanging your ass in the air for him. You hear the clink of his belt as he pulls down his trousers, watching from over your shoulder.

“I told you to take my dress off,” you remind him, lightening the mood a bit. You have to stifle back a moan as he spreads your ass, pulling you flush against the shape of his bulge, lowly moaning when he does. 

Jamal pauses for a moment. “Nah.” He pulls his boxers down, taking his cock in his hands, hard and throbbing, jerking himself off before aligning the tip with your pussy.

“Wanna fuck you in it.” 

He slides his cock up and down your slit before pushing into you in one long stroke. A long moan is drawn from your throat as your head drops, feeling him slowly stretch you out, stopping until his pelvis was flush with your ass. 

It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, hearing Jamal whisper soft praises as he grips your hips, rolling his slowly to help. Once you do, he pulls back out, only living the tip in your cunt, before slamming back in and finding a rhythm.

“Shit,” you spit through a mix of moans and curses, feeling him push into you over, and over, and over. After a particulary rough snap of his hips, your elbows give out under you, causing you to bury your face in the sheets, arching your back harder.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” You hear Jamal breathe from behind you. His eyes are trained on where you’re taking him raw, seeing the glossy sheen coat his shaft, glowing underneath your bedroom lights.

His hands are rough where he gropes, alternating between bunching your dress up higher, spreading your ass and gripping your hips, slamming you against him harder. 

Jamal pulls you up to his chest, one hand loosely hanging around your neck. You can barely process the change of position until you feel his bare chest flush against your back.

His lips curl into a smirk, watching your mouth slightly open, the filthiest of sounds pouring out into his ears, spit welling in its corners. Your eyes struggle to stay open, your head lulling on his shoulder.

“Don’t—ah—don’t stop, please,” you blabber, drunk on his hips snapping up into you. 

Jamal plants a featherlight kiss on your temple. “Never.” He plants another. “So good, so good for me.”

He moulds his lips against yours, a messy clash of teeth and tongue. You struggle to kiss back, only whining into his mouth.

The knot in your stomach grows tighter by the second, your moans getting increasingly higher pitched by the second, your face contorting in pleasure. You’re close, Jamal knows it too.

“I’m close, fuck.” You reach out to him behind you, trying to lock him in place so he doesn’t stop. Not like he was planning on it, anyway.

Jamal twitches inside you, and you know he’s close too. His thrusts get sloppier, more sporadic, chasing your high before his own.  “Cum for me, go on,” he coos, lips ghosting over your earlobe. 

He reaches around your torso, his fingers finding your clit, circling figure-eights. It’s all it takes for your orgasm to wash over you in waves, sending your thighs shaking. Jamal doesn’t stop, he fucks you through it all, pressing kisses on your neck and shoulder, fingers still trained between your thighs. Jamal pulls out, causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of being empty. You’re spent, chest heaving and sticky with sweat, but you still find the energy to turn around, facing him. He’s jerking himself off in his hands, his cock red and throbbing, begging for a release.

You look up at him with mischievous eyes, his own watching your every move. You pull your dress up and over your head, leaving yourself bare in front of him, sitting on your heels.

Jamal kneels high above you, groaning when he watches you push your tits together, inviting him closer. His head tips back when you stick your tongue out, kitten licking the tip of his cock, tasting the precum dripping from its head.

Strings of white liquid are painted across your chest as Jamal cums, shuddering. You feel some hit your chin, darting your tongue to get a taste, never breaking eye contact.

He cups your chin, pressing his lips onto yours, leaving chaste kisses. You both stay like that for a while, lazily making out, smiling against each other’s lips.

Jamal plants one final kiss before pulling away. “Stay here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He walks in your bathroom, leaving with a towel and a water bottle he’d found somewhere not long after. 

You let him gently swipe the towel against your chest, his hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin. While you two sat in silence, it wasn’t an awkward one, far from it. It was comforting. It felt familiar, this domesticity. It felt natural.

You don’t say anything when he pulls you to lay on his chest. You don’t say anything when he pulls the blanket over you two, turning off the lights. You just focus on his heartbeat.

A throbbing headache has been your alarm these past few mornings, and today is no different.

The sunlight spills through the cracks in your curtains, bleeding through your shut eyelids. You slowly ease into consciousness, sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. A shiver runs through your body, instinctively pulling the blanket closer to you.

The second thing that hits you is your lack of clothes. You blink away the drowsiness, examining yourself, completely bare. Peculiar, but not unfamiliar.

The third thing that hits you is the weight on the opposite side of your bed when you yank the comforter. Your eyes widen at the sight of an undressed Jamal, blanket only covering so much, stirring awake next to you. His toned abs in full display, glowing golden in the sunlight.

It doesn’t take long for your brain to floor your memories of recollections from last night. You wince, face scrunching in disbelief as the images flashed in your head one by one.  What were you thinking?

You bend down to grab the first article of clothing you could find — Jamal’s shirt. Not ideal but it’ll do. You put it on to cover yourself, standing up with the plan of getting as far away from him as possible.

A strong grip on your arm stops your plans. 

Jamal calls your name, voice gruff and thick with the early morning. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the sound.

“Where are you headed?” he asks, adoringly.

No. This is wrong. You can’t think of him that way, someone who’s supposed to be irrevocably off-limits — so you get right to the point.

“Jamal.” His eyebrows furrow at the sound of you calling his full name. You’re never in a good mood when you do. “This, this cant… we can’t…” You watch him look up at you like he was expecting this from a mile away. 

With one pull, he tugs you back in bed, causing you to sit on his lap, albeit not fully. You don’t want to run away from him, deep down you know you don’t, and he knows that too. 

“Why? You scared of Noah?” 

You’re not sure how to respond.

“This isn’t even, I mean, we’re not even…” you struggle to string the right words together.

Jamal cups your cheek and you melt into his touch. Your words say one thing but your body suggests another. 

“I like you, I really do. I know I didn’t get the chance to say it last night,” he assures. You feel your cheeks heat at the sudden confession. “I don’t want to see you with someone else. I don’t want to act like I’m perfectly fine when you bring up some other guy.” You look deep into his eyes with a look that says, me too. After last night you knew you and Jamal would never be the same, for better or for worse. You pick the former.

“And especially not Mathys, Jesus.” You chuckle, finally lightening up. “Out of all the people you wanted to use to make me jealous, you chose him. Blegh.”

The giggles leaving your chest are unabashed the second time around. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, and it sucked.” Jamal’s palm lets go of your face, dropping down to take your hand in his. He resumes to his original point. “I want this, okay? I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to see you in my shirt every day,” he says while fumbling with the hem of his shirt hanging off your frame. 

“I want you.” 

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer, this time properly sitting on his lap. “Never took you for such a romantic, J.” 

He stifles in a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours before closing the gap. You’re finally his.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

-

Ask to be added to my Leon taglist!

[iid-smile]

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

sent straight from... hell, with a cigarette in hand , chapter two

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: smoking, profanity, money talk, odd conversation, just a lot of smoking

author's note: its hard trying to build on a characters story when you havent got it written out on paper (like me) lol font make this mistake because building as you go is painful

at last, night was just around the corner.

you put megumi to bed as soon as you could, despite the high risk that he'll be the one waking you up in the morning and not the other way around.

you're well aware you should quit smoking, for your sake and his, but you just can't. it takes so much weight off of your shoulders, even if it's just for a few hours, or maybe even minutes. it brings peace to your mind, but it's more like you can't think at all rather than having the negative thoughts pushed out.

and here, you find yourself around the back of the slummy apartment block, holding your last three cigarettes in your hand. multiple times have you peered up at your floor, checking through the window that the light to your son's bedroom remains off. you know that he's well-behaved, but sometimes kids just get up to the oddest things when their parents aren't around; if you even consider yourself worthy enough to be one.

the only lighter you have seems to have enough fluid, but it's hard to say when there's little to no lampposts in this area. on top of that, it's windy, so if the flame keeps blowing out... you're doomed.

and wow, would you look at that! every time you press on the pusher, the little beam of joy that sprouted out just had to be blown out. better yet, it's completely dead now. there's no store within a walking distance that you could reach in time, and you sure as hell don't want to be knocking around on doors when your neighbours know you have a kid.

addiction sure is scary.

"bloody hell..." you mutter, your head throwing back onto the concrete wall behind you. it hurt, but the rising irritation burning up in your throat was worse. way worse. perhaps this is a sign..?

"need a light?"

one of your eyes open and gaze off to the right, only to see a tall-ish silhouette of a man. your eyes squint, and a scowl quickly overcomes your face, ready to scare him off if need be. "who are you?"

"just call me..." the mystery man hums for a moment, hands in pockets as he steps closer to you. "kong. mr kong." you can tell he's got a smile, or what you'd (not) like to think is a smirk, and he comes up to lean against the wall beside you.

automatically, you shift over to create a wider gap between the two of you, and you cross your arms in defence. "well, mr kong, i don't appreciate you approaching me in the middle of the night."

"and i don't appreciate your attitude either, missy. for someone who looks so distressed, you really don't seem to want what you're craving, do you?" he says, his tone awfully amused.

is that a threat? sounds like a threat to you. and it definitely sounds like it's got multiple layers to it. "i don't want shit from you." you bark back.

"oh, really?" in the corner of your eye, you watch as he takes out a cigarette box, placing one in between his teeth. "then, don't mind me." he turns his head away from you, and a quiet flick flick commences. the thick gust of smoke wafting into the air was only a dream for you at the moment.

this guy... this mr kong guy... he's teasing you. he dares to come into your personal space, and rub it in your face that he's got a lit cigarette and you don't. something bubbles in your throat, like you're salivating at the thought of your mouth running dry. you have to. "wait, actually—"

"exactly." the tab in your hand was tightly pinched between your middle and index finger, and he takes it upon himself to press a fire against the butt. "let's handle this like adults, yeah?"

as anticipated, your face immediately lights up. this is a sign! weird strangers that approach you in the middle of the night are the best sources for a light! and he's got money too, you can tell by the design. chic and sleek, black, gold accents. rich guys usually go for things like that, right? with no ring on his finger, you're going to try butter him up.

you gaze at him, trying to find anything to talk about, but you could only notice his appearance. tall, stubble, suit. the surname kong doesn't really sound japanese... maybe he's not from here. that would be disrespectful to ask though. the sound of his sighs and mumbles catches your attention, and you immediately pounce at the opportunity. "are you stressed?"

"definitely. got a man-child on my hands. will not stop whining about how much he misses his wife." mr kong groans again, his free hand coming to loosen his tie.

you tilt your head more at him. "and the wife in question is...?"

"no, it's him that's away. locked away, to be precise." he's staring off at nothing, mindlessly repeating his actions. "he's always visibly disappointed when it's me visiting and not her. it's not like she ever will anyway, so he should give it up."

rapid fire questions are the way to go. "what did he go in for?"

"a lot of things." another pause as he takes a drag, sighing again as he takes a glance at you. "something a woman like you shouldn't hear." ...rapid fire was cut short.

rude and assuming... also, that's the second time kong guy here has said something suspicious. you can't even be mad, not when you want to milk some money out of him. hell, even that little light he gave you could've cost a whole ten thousand yen note. you've got nothing else to ask.

"got kids, by any chance?" he asks inquisitively, or maybe trying to fill for the silence, a question for you.

"a little boy. well... he won't be so little anymore soon." your eyes drifts down to the ground, and you fiddle with a little strand of hair that was within your sight. "he's only got me, i've only got him."

"and the father?"

and tell him that your ex-husband also coincidentally went to prison for bad things too? yeah, no. "...gone."

"unfortunate." mr kong seems to be trying to find something else to look at, having used up all of what was in front of him. "you live here?"

"yep." you shouldn't even try to deny it. surely he saw you glancing up at the windows multiple times, even before he came up to you. there's no point in lying.

when he turns back to you, his eyebrow raises; he's amused again. "you really make me pity you, missy. it's not often that i feel that way."

now he's looking down on you?

it's like as soon as you heard that word pity, you saw dollar signs blinding your eyes. "...think you could help me out? some bills and stuff?" shit, you're asking too early! so shameless about it too.

not only was your kiss ass attempt obvious, you're asking a random man that you don't even know for financial help. you're seriously vulnerable to scammers.

"sure."

"what?"

"i said sure."

"but i didn't even—"

mr kong chuckles, mockingly too. "money always comes with a price. just be ready for it." with that, he stomps out his used up cigarette, walking off as he lights himself a new one.

he's too trusting, or you're signing yourself up for something dangerous. either way, it's like he was aware you would accept no matter the conditions. does this guy know you already or what? and when the hell will you be able to see him again?

no... he's familiar.

taglist: open!

@iheartlinds @ssetsuka

[adnauseum11]

Unexploded Ordinance (John Price x Reader)

You and John navigate the process of moving in together. John is pleased you are home.

1.4k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex MDNI

If the end of this chapter feels a bit abrupt it's because I split it in two to keep it from being a ridiculous length. You can expect the next chapter to pick up where this one left off.

Still not completely happy with this chapter but in the interest of not circling the drain forever and moving forward I'm posting anyways lol yolo

feedback welcome!

When John hasn’t returned from his call before you are done eating your breakfast - and polishing off the last of the raspberries - you take yourself to the bathroom to shower. He’s waiting for you in the living room when you finally emerge, feeling a bit more like yourself. He’s clearly lost in thought, your hand on his shoulder finally knocking him back to the present.

John is easy to talk into moving more things today, on your impromptu day off. When you arrive back at the apartment, he checks the door before he lets you enter, satisfied it’s been undisturbed. You immediately bicker with him about your furniture and what pieces will stay or go. You can tell he’s pleased when he wins the debate between the couches, you being partial to your vintage re-upholstered and wildly heavy chesterfield sofa. It’s too short for John to lay down on, forcing him to bend his knees and isn’t very comfortable, truth be told. It’s a gorgeous deep green velvet that draws the eye but otherwise isn’t overly practical. You pout about having to give it up until he gives over on your books entirely. He’s consistently bitched about moving your personal library, filled with heavy anthologies from your university days. They’ve been dragged from pillar to post over the years and you’ve refused every less than subtle suggestion to sell them. He doesn’t even try to make you choose which ones to keep, sighing deeply in resignation and asking how many boxes you think it will take to pack them all. This earns him the hardest hug you can muster and a rain of kisses he has to crouch for, chuckling lowly.

You make a trip back to his place with your clothing, the colourful array of fabrics making John’s limited selections seem all the starker by comparison. It brings you up short, seeing your things beside his in the wardrobe. You get caught up wondering what the hell you are doing, agreeing to this. You don’t get very far in your spiral before John finds you, kneeling surrounded by folded t-shirts. You’re jealous of his ability to seemingly pick a course of action and execute it without the self-doubt that swamps you occasionally. If you hadn’t known him as long as you have you would say it’s something he learned in the military, but you’re pretty sure that’s all John.

His presence steadies you again and you end up making another trip to collect your hairdryer and various other products needed to make yourself presentable for work tomorrow. Most of your everyday use items and valuables are safely rehoused in John’s flat by the time you are ready to throw the towel in for the day. You agree to go to the pub around the corner for dinner, neither of you feeling like cooking. On the walk down, John’s big hand stays on your lower back, keeping you close as you wander down the street together. It’s quiet at the pub, early in the week meaning the clientele are mostly regulars. You get your choice of seats and John steers you to a booth against the back wall, tugging you to sit on the same side as him.

He questions your half-baked plan to quit your job while distracting you from giving an answer, his hand creeping over your thigh and shoulders, bracketing you against him. You finally cross your legs, pinning his warm hand between your thighs so you can formulate a coherent response. He presses a smirk against your temple and listens as you complain of your treatment this morning, and then just in general. You've had a volatile few days and vent your spleen accordingly.

He removes his hands from your body when the food arrives, creating a tiny sliver of space between you on the bench seat. John hums sympathetically at your complaints but finally convinces you to get through the rest of the week before you submit anything in writing, pointing out you should probably update your resume first at minimum. You grumble but reluctantly agree, his even-keeled approach to the situation a better tactic than your instinct for dramatics.

John’s level head only seems to extend to your choices because by the time you’re out the door and on the way home he’s truly unable to keep his hands to himself. Twice on the short walk back he’s pressed you up against the wall of a nearby building, his hands cupping your face as his eager mouth finds yours. You make out like teenagers until you can feel the cold creeping into the tips of your ears, a gentle push against his chest enough to back him off temporarily. You’re getting better at reading John in this state, how his eyes glaze with want and his focus narrows. You finally resort to threading your fingers with his to keep his hand from constantly drifting over your ass, wrapping yourself around his arm to make him behave. 

You open the door using your key, John too preoccupied with working his hands under your jacket and shirt. His big body corrals you against him, kicking the door shut after wrestling you through it, almost not giving you time to get your key out of the lock.

“Fucking hell John.”

You breathe out as he spins you around, your arms going around his neck automatically. He kisses you hungrily, his palm cupping the back of your head. You feel the thump of the wall at your back, his hand leaving the back of your head to shove your coat off your shoulders. You wiggle out of it and push at the thick lambskin jacket he’s wearing, slipping your hands under it to grip his shoulders. He shrugs out of it, his lips finding yours again almost immediately. You can feel desire vibrating through his frame, his thigh working its way between yours. Before he can overwhelm you completely, you push back against his chest.

He's breathing hard, confusion mixing across his face as you flatten your palms against his chest and push, reversing your positions by backing him up against the opposite wall. You have to go up on your tip toes, gripping the back of his neck to tug him down to kiss you again. He’s got his hands full of your ass, too preoccupied to catch on to your intent until you're slipping out of his grasp, sliding to your knees in front of him. Your nimble fingers have his belt undone and his jeans open before he can process and stop you, hissing out your name as your fingers wrap around his twitching cock.

You smirk to yourself and wrench a deep groan from his chest as your lips close around the flushed head of his cock, your eyes locking on his face. His cheeks and throat are flushed with the same shade of red as his cock, his blue eyes now nearly black, his pupils dilated with desire. He looks so intense it sends a thrill through your belly that you’re capable of affecting him like this. You swirl your tongue over the head, tasting the salty pre-cum and slide your palm up the wiry hair of his firm abdomen, pushing his shirt up.

John growls lowly, his fingers burying into your hair, gripping close to the roots. He doesn’t try to direct your movements, content to let you work him over however you see fit but the gentle pull on your hair sends flashes of sensation down your spine. The muscles of his stomach jump at the drag of your fingers on his cock as you squeeze the base, sucking on the tip deeply, making John’s fingers clench in your hair. You lift off him and press his erection against his belly, running the flat of your tongue over the underside before teasing his balls with the tip of your tongue.

That has John rocking up onto his toes, hissing your name again followed by a curse. You can’t stop the pleased smirk that slides across your face and wrap your lips around the tip again, focusing your tongue on the sensitive spot on the underside. You can feel his cock twitching, the tension in his body ratcheting tighter with a moan. You let his shirt drop and cup his balls, lapping at the tip intently.

That seems to finally push John beyond his limit and he firmly tugs your hair to pull you off him. Your scalp tingles and you hum in disappointment but John’s already got a hold of your arm, lifting you to your feet again.

“C'mere love, I want to be inside you when I cum.”  

He growls lowly, making you shiver, backing you down the hallway to the bedroom with predatory intent. The look on his face makes your stomach quiver in anticipation, your insides going molten.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @cadotoast @beebeechaos @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00

[ribread03]

Spin you around

M.sturniolo

RI.talks: I low key wrote the last half of this barely alive because I’m sick so please enjoy lol. I also realize how I’ve written two fics of them dancing in the kitchen, maybe thats just something I really want to happen… idk but like, comments and reblogs are all welcome and greatly appreciated

The night is young as you and Matt are laying in bed watching our favorite Tv show. Cuddled within each other’s body’s as the two of you lay in a comfortable silence. The silence is broken when your stomach suddenly rumbles, a small giggle leaves your lips at the sound.

“You hungry?” Matts quite voice drifts though the air as he hears your stomach grumble again.

“Mhm” you hum softly. You slowly slide out of bed sleepily, stretching as you stand up fully. As your limbs wake up you make your way to the door, Matt following closely behind. Your feet are sliding slightly on the floor as you make your way to the kitchen, heading straight toward the fridge.

“I can make us some Mac and cheese if you want” Matts says coming up behind you wrapping his arms around you. He gently sways the two of you back and forth as you think.

You nod your head, “sure” you say softly, your voice hoarse from not speaking for a while. Matt lets go of you and heads over to the pantry cabinet, grabbing a box of Mac and cheese. He grabs a pot, filling it with water before he sets it on the stove.

As he does this you turn on some music, a playlist of music you both like. The first song that comes on is ‘spin you around’ by Morgan Wallen. This song has become yours and Matt’s song, from the first time the two of you heard it. Every time it plays the two of you never fail to dance to it.

Matt turns around and shoots you a small smile, “May I have this dance?” He holds his hands out for you to take. You smile at Matt and take his hands. He pulls you into him gently, swaying the two of you back and forth.

As the two of you dance around the kitchen Matt breaks away for a few seconds to put the macaroni in the water, giving it a quick stir before continuing to dance with you.

“I love you” the words leave your mouth as Matt spins you around, before bringing you back to his chest.

“I love you to sweet girl” he whispers into your ear, leaving small kisses on your neck.

As the song comes to an end you and Matt break away from each other, Matt goes to check on the macaroni while you get bowls and forks. Matt finishes up the Mac n’ cheese and scoops it into the bowls. The nights ends with full belly’s and full hearts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR READING

[gilverrwrites]

Hello could you please do some captain boomerang headcanon fluff, I don’t see enough of it on here.

AN: I can and I will. Good fluffy vibes only today, however, if you would like a reality check, please watch the video linked at the end.

Rating: General (however, wanting for swearing)

Please remember: Everything you're worried about, is going to turn out ok.

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

He’s not much for texting, much prefers sending voice notes. These can range anywhere from simple good night/good morning notes, the longest, most pointless, probably drunken rambles, jokes he stole came up with, or professions of love.

When he texts, it’s always in 90s/early 00s style and full of emojis that don’t quite mean what he thinks they do.

Cn’t w8 2 c 👀 u 🫵l8r 👄❣️🪃 X 🌫️ Gud nite mu 🫥 u4e lol 😜 🩵🪃 xXx RUOK 4 d8 l8r??? 🌷💦 CUL ❤️‍🔥🪃 X

Has your name saved in his phone as the most ridiculous nickname you can think of, probably also with a bunch of emojis.

Dependant on your personality, petnames would include a few of the following: Darl’, darlin’, babs, babes, baby (pronounced bah-bee), sweets, hon, peachy, lovey, peanut, or doll.

Whatever your least favourite is, he will use the most cause he loves winding you up.

Swears at you, a lot. But its affectionate.

He’s not used to people doing things for him, so he is massively grateful when you do like menial domestic labour for him.

You sewed up the hole in my jacket? You’re THE best, I can’t believe you would do that for me. You did my laundry? WTF? You didn’t have to do that (he’s been wearing the same unwashed boxers for 2 weeks, someone had to) how can I ever repay you babes? You cooked for me? (It’s literally a pot-noodle) You’re an angel, I’m not welling up, shut it.

He’s really good at like, enhancing 'easy' food. He’ll add egg and chives and stuff to his packet noodles, makes the best cheese and vegemite toasty, knows just how much oil and extra cheese to add to a frozen pizza, and has mastered box mix cupcakes. His favourite is chocolate.

Uses a 5 in 1 shower gel, if and when he showers, and you cannot tell me he doesn’t blast lynx africa and/or paco rabanne 1 million so he smells woody and spicy.

However, if you have fancy smelly products of you’re own, he will use them. Gonna treat himself with a good scrub and some large helpings of your shampoo and conditioner (this one’s got multiple products for their hair, posho!)

Doesn’t matter if you use products intended for a specific skin/hair type, it’s getting used.

As a nice bonus he likes doing it cause it means your smell lingers on him when you’re not together.

Won’t admit it but he also really likes it if you burn candles and/or incense.

If you’re close enough in size, he will steal your clothes. Especially socks cause he is always wearing holes into his own.

Gets all gooey and excited when you wear his clothes, especially if you’re small enough that they look oversized, and are visibly his.

If you’re inclined to wear flowy summer dresses, he’ll go feral. Also, a big fan of linen shirts/blouses and short shorts.

When he’s dressed causal he lives in shorts and filp-flops, even in the midst of winter. Or if he’s not leaving the house he’ll just wear his boxer shorts.

Is gone for long periods of time (prison, hiding out etc) so is very clingy when you’re back together, and doesn’t really have boundaries.

Will walk in on you in the bath shower to use the toilet, or to just sit and talk to you. If you ask him nicely, he will wash your hair. Might not do a good job, but he will do it. Has his arms wrapped around your waist at all times while you’re trying to do chores or are out shopping. If he wakes before you (a rare occurrence) he will just lay on his side, watching you sleep. Might get impatient and attempt to subtly wake you by gently brushing your side or nose, or gently shaking your body.

Normally sleeps way into the day, and snores, loudly. Often wakes with a hangover. And will practically beg you to make him a bacon an egg.  

Loves almost any and all brekkie food, bacon, egg, hash browns, pancakes, you name it.

Is not a cuddly sleeper. Like he can fall asleep cuddling, but he will start rolling around, splaying his arms out, kicking his legs. Huge bed hog.

Says his favourite films are action, gangster, or like bro style comedies. Think like: Road House, Indian Jones, Kill Bill, The Gentleman, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, The Hang Over.

If you put on a horror, drama, or rom com, he will not watch it with you.

But he will find things to do in the general vicinity. Or straight up do the dad thing of like standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. If he’s not sat with you, he’s technically not watching it.

So like, which one is actually her dad? They don’t tell you but the writ- No no no, don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out, Don’t go in the basement, there’s never anything good in the basement, oh she’s only bloody gone and went in the basement! But… Barbie doesn’t love Ken. I’m not cryin, I just got allergies, shut up an’ watch your dumb girly film.

Has a stolen tattoo gun,wants to get matching tattoos, has pro for everyone of your cons. Ideally, he just wants names/initials in hearts, but will settle for more symbolic tattoos. Like a boomerang to represent him for you, and something similar for you.

Keeping any gift you’ve ever given him for life.

I made you a friends ship braclet. Eh, ya know its not my normal kinda jewellery. You don’t ha- No, fuck off, I’m gonna wear it forever.  

Would still love you if you were a worm. Hasn’t the foggiest what he would do with you. But he would love you.

Obviously gonna teach you how to use a boomerang. Even if you already know, he’s gonna show you the right way. Gotta make sure his bab is protected. (Don’t tell him that you find them impractical and are unlikely to ever use one when in need, he will sulk.)

Aforementioned video.

[notsoattractivearenti]

Start of A New Life (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 4.3K

Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth descriptions, slight mentions of difficulty concieving

A/N: dad!christian for you all!!! this is so not proofread lol. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

Two red lines. “Pregnant - 2-3 weeks”. Another two red lines.

My heart suddenly skips a beat. My hands start shaking and I feel a gasp just leave my mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now. Is this real? I thought to myself. I have to take another look at all three pregnancy tests that I’m holding on both of my hands just to make sure I didn’t see them wrong and of course, nothing changed. Tears start to fall from my eyes, I am on cloud nine knowing a mini me – or my husband – is growing inside me. It’s happening… It’s really happening! 

—

Christian and I have always wanted children of our own, and we have been trying for a baby for more than a year. We are well aware that not everyone will get pregnant as soon as they start trying, but honestly, at some point it can be exhausting and painful during the period. We had gone to the doctor, got ourselves checked up and luckily no issues were found, so the doctor just suggested we keep trying and be patient. There were times when we were so close to giving up – I was sick of seeing negative results over and over again – but we reminded ourselves that if it’s meant to be, it will happen when it happens and there are couples who have been trying to conceive way longer than us and still haven't succeeded.

I used to constantly apologize to Christian whenever I got a negative result on the pregnancy test because I felt like the problem was me and I was afraid I could never give him a child – I truly wanted to fulfill one of his lifelong dreams: becoming a father. And every single time Christian would tell me to stop apologizing to him and quit being hard on myself because it was never my fault. I knew he felt disappointed to see a single red line instead of two, but like always, he cared a lot more about my feelings. He never failed to comfort me during those times and would go out of his way just to make me feel better – and I am forever grateful to have such a loving and supportive partner for the rest of my life.

—

Christian has been in training since this morning – shortly before I found out I’m pregnant – so I decided to plan a special, little way to reveal the grand, long-awaited news before he goes home. I really cannot wait to see his reaction and I’m “positive” it’s going to be the sweetest thing ever. Since he transferred to his new club, he usually comes home from training feeling all happy and pumped up – imagine how he will be when he finds out he’s going to be a dad! My man may not be the most expressive person in the world, but I know no matter how little he would show his emotion on the surface, he is going to feel immense happiness deep inside his heart.

I searched through Pinterest for some references and after a while, I finally made up my mind. I don’t necessarily have good eyes on aesthetics and stuff so I just go for a simple way. I go look for some adorable little pregnancy announcement onesies, a gift box, and a few small decorative pieces so it would at least look cute and pleasing. I arrange the “present” as soon as I get home, put the box on the kitchen counter, and write a note on the outside – it says: “For my special man ♥ ps: no question asked! ;)”.

A few hours later, he finally comes home.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m home!”

Usually, I would come to him at the front door, greet him back and we would start sharing about each other’s days. But this time, I’m pretending not to hear him and make myself look busy in the kitchen – even though Christian and I actually cleaned the entire kitchen last night. To be honest, the reason I’m doing this is to cover my nervousness. I know he’s going to be excited but a little part of me worries he would change his mind about having a child after so many failed “attempts”.

“Y/N?” He sounds confused.

He then goes around the house looking for me before eventually finding me in the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps but I keep pretending like I am completely unaware of him. He comes over to me and hugs me from behind, and greets me with kisses – and of course, I act surprised when he does that.

“Hey baby, did you not hear me?”

His raspy, gentle voice gives me chills. It never fails to make me feel weak on my knees. But for now, I have to keep my act together.

“Oh sorry, I got so caught up here washing dishes!”

I’m trying to make an impromptu excuse but I’m pretty sure it sounds really weird to him now. I mean, right now there are no dirty dishes to wash except one mug I currently have in my hands… I just know he is a bit confused.

“Umm, Y/N, didn’t we just wash th-”

“So how was training?” I cut him off before he questions me any further.

“Well, great as always. Tired, sure, but you know…” He pauses to kiss my neck, “whenever I see you after training, I am so recharged right away.”

I bite my bottom lip and feel my cheeks are turning red. Ugh, focus Y/N… Remember the big news you have yet to tell him! I remind myself quietly.

“Recharge? What am I, a phone charger?”

I instantly regret that lame, super unfunny joke I just said. He chuckles, I believe he is just being the supportive partner he always is.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good one, Mrs. Pulisic.”

“Oh by the way, I think I see something that looks like a gift right over there,” he points to the gift box over the counter, “is that for me?”

“I don’t know… Maybe?”

“What is it?” He straightforwardly asks about it.

“Christian…” I sigh.

“What did I do to deserve it?” He quickly asks again.

I turn around, rolling my eyes at him to show him in a jokey way that his questions annoy me.

“My goodness, Christian, just open the goddamn gift!”

He quickly walks across the room while saying the phrase “What’s in the box? What’s in the box???” repeatedly. I carefully watch every little move he makes – I really want to cherish this moment.

“Awww, baby, am I really your special man?” He cutely pouts and puts his hands over his chest when he reads the notes.

I can’t help but laugh at his adorable face.

When he starts opening the gift box, I can feel my heart jump a little. I subconsciously start fidgeting my fingers and shake my legs – I really am that nervous. I almost certainly know that he’s going to react positively but, what if I could be wrong?

Before I know it, I see him gasping, then has his hands covering his mouth, with both of his eyes widened. He then turns to my direction with the look of disbelief written all over his face.

“Y/N???” His jaw drops and his breath hitches.

“Are we… Are w-” He is really caught off guard by this big news he is losing words for a moment.

“Uhm, sorry, I uh, I wh-” he pauses for a good second before continuing, “Are we having a baby???”

“Yeah…” I excitedly nod in response. “I just found out this morning.”

He then runs back to me, hugs me tight and buries his face in between my neck and shoulder – I can slightly feel his tears over my shoulder.

“You’re going to be a dad, Christian.” I whisper to him.

And just like that, I just made him cry even harder.

“My love…” He sobs. “Thank you… Thank you. I love you!”

He looks down and puts his hand on my tummy, then his eyes go straight into mine.

“It’s a bit surreal thinking about how our child is now growing inside you… You’re unbelievably amazing, Y/N.”

He then kneels in front of my tummy while holding my waists with both his hands, and talks to our growing child.

“Hi little angel, I can’t wait to meet you… I love you so much already.” He kisses my tummy after.

—

We started telling our family and close friends a few days after the first sonogram. Everyone was so happy for us and has been very lovely and wonderful to us – especially me, of course. Both mine and his family would go all the way to make sure I got everything I need, and the moms have been offering generous help and willingly guiding me through my first pregnancy whenever I need them to.

During the ultrasound, Christian didn’t let go of my hand even for a second and asked the doctor so many questions that I didn’t even think about – apparently the night before he had done his research and I was not aware of that. When we got to see our growing fetus on the screen and listen to their heartbeat, Christian – who usually doesn’t really show his emotions on his face –  became very emotional and it kind of freaked me out. Being a dad is truly one of the biggest dreams he has ever had. Now that it’s really coming true, his emotions are all over the place and because he is not used to experiencing such overflowing emotions, he is still trying his best to manage them. Though I think that is adorable, I just love to make fun of him for it.

“You know, Chris, I’m wondering who the hell is actually with a baby?” I poke fun at his “hormonal” reaction. “Because it’s like your hormones are going crazy while I’m here able to control my emotions.”

“Oh shut up,” he moans, “what’s happening is that my heart is warmer now while yours is still ice cold.” 

My jaw drops at his immediate, clever clap back. Oh how I love sassy Christian!

“Stop it!” I laugh really hard. “That’s a good burn on me, Pulisic!”

—

Since Christian found out we are expecting, he has been extra attentive, present and caring to me. Though I appreciate it greatly, it can be too much sometimes. Therefore I would ask him to back down a bit and thankfully he never fails to understand that I still need my space.

No matter how busy he might be, he never wants to miss going to every doctor appointment. He also always pays very good attention to our baby’s development – he even has a binder made specifically for it. He gets excited all the time when the baby kicks, and when the baby is kicking so hard he would talk to my tummy.

“Sweetheart, please be good in there. Don’t hurt Mommy, okay?”

“My little angel, don’t kick Mommy’s tummy that hard, please. Let’s not make Mommy feel hurt.”

He always communicates with the baby and every time, they would respond to Christian. It’s like they have bonded really well even before they meet, and the thought of him being so close with our child really melts my heart.

He loves taking pictures of my growing bump. Every single time he would tell me I look really beautiful while carrying our child, and my reaction would either be thanking him shyly or telling him to shut the crap – depending on my mood that day, really. Pregnancy has given me mood swings lately I can’t even predict how I would be feeling that day whenever a new day starts. But Christian has always had a lot of patience and I admire how he would perfectly handle me no matter how good or bad my mood might be. Yeah, he is without a doubt going to be the best parent and I can’t wait to witness it.

We decided to not find out about our baby’s sex because we want to surprise ourselves. Besides, we really don’t care if we’re having a boy or a girl. We don’t want to set certain expectations especially when it comes to their sex or gender because all we care about is that they’re healthy and come to this world all safe and sound. Although, we have prepared some names – but we don’t feel like making the final decision before the baby is actually born.

—

Today I woke up at 4 in the morning to a cramp on my stomach – a bit similar to the menstrual cramps I used to have at the beginning of my period. It comes and goes irregularly, and at first I got scared thinking something bad might be happening. But then I remember what my doctor had explained before: the cramp might be a sign of early labor. I then wake Christian up, letting him know I am possibly entering the early labor stage. When I tell him about it, his eyes widen all of the sudden and he slightly jumps off the bed.

“Wha- Y/N should we just get you to the hospital right now???” He sounds so worried.

“No, I don’t think so. Let’s just time each contraction and when the contraction interval is around 5 to 7 minutes, then we can go.”

I have to explain it calmly because he is visibly alarmed. Even after I do so he is still looking so tense.

“Chris, I’m alright. You can relax for now.” I assure him.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, ”if you say so.”

—

Almost 15 hours later, the contractions start to come closer apart and when I check my phone, the interval of last contraction to current contraction is 5 minutes, so I tell Christian that it is finally time to go to the hospital. Already dressed, he immediately grabs the car keys and sets up some blankets on the passenger’s seat in case my water breaks. After that, he goes back into the house to grab hospital bags then puts them in the trunk of our car. Not long after, he sees me struggling to get into the car, so he gently helps me and once I get in, he makes sure I am sitting comfortably before locking all the doors at our house.

“Okay, everything is set, now it’s time to go.” He says as he starts the car.

He looks at me for a second and gives me a kiss on my forehead before he takes the wheel.

“Let’s go have a baby, shall we?”

—

The midwife informs me that I’m now 10 centimeters dilated, meaning it is finally time to push. I am still in incredible pain and genuinely terrified to do so because I don’t know if I can still bear the pain while pushing a full-sized human baby out of my vagina. Also, I have heard about this thing called “ring of fire” – it’s the strong burning sensation that you will experience when your baby is crowning – and now that it’s about to happen, I can’t stop thinking about it. While getting into the birthing position, I turn to Christian who is standing next to me.

“Christian, I’m scared…” I whimper. “I don’t know if I can do this…”

Hearing what I say truly breaks his heart. He hates knowing I’m scared yet he can’t do anything about it except giving me the encouragement he knows I need. He then looks deep into my eyes, smiling at me while caressing my hair, with his other hand holding mine tight.

“Yes you can, my love.” He softly says.

“You are the strongest person I have ever known so I know you know you absolutely can! It’s okay to be scared but baby, I’m here.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go meet our little angel, yeah?”

I nod and take some deep breaths to prepare myself. Then I let the doctor know I’m ready and they immediately tell me to start pushing.

One push, two pushes, those were not so bad. Starting from third push, it starts to feel very, very painful.

“You’re doing great my love!”

He is basically being my ultimate cheerleader the whole time. He doesn’t let go of my hand no matter how hard I might grip his hand. He says he doesn’t feel a thing though I know he is lying his butt off for my benefit.

“Chris this hurts so bad…” I bawl, squeezing his hand hard. “This really hurt…”

His eyes suddenly become all teary. He can no longer hide his ache seeing the woman he loves greatly has to endure unthinkable pain to bring his child into the world.

“My love I’m sorry…” He weeps. “I’m sorry you have to go through this… But sweetheart you know you can keep going, a few more pushes and our baby is here…”

I keep pushing even though at some point I didn’t feel like I could do it anymore. But having Christian there gives me the strength I need during the birthing process.

“Y/N, let’s give one big final push!” Says the doctor.

“Uh, yeah, okay…” I say to them as my breath hitches.

I’m already very exhausted but unfortunately there’s no way I can stop. I can feel my baby is crowning and this “ring of fire” sensation is no joke – so when the doctor told me to do one final push all I can think of is that this pain will be over soon.

“C’mon sweetheart! You can do this!”

I hear a loud crying from my baby.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” The doctor excitedly announces.

“Oh my God, honey, we have a daughter!” I turn to Christian and see him already flooded with tears.

“Our little princess…” He sobs. “One more beautiful girl for me to love for the rest of my life.”

—

Christian and I can’t stop looking at our newborn daughter. 

“Chris, look at her… She’s so tiny.”

“These little fingers are the cutest.”

She wraps Christian’s forefinger with her entire hand.

“She has your lips, Y/N.” He points out. 

“Yeah… But she mostly has your features so I was basically just an oven!” I jokily grunt.

“Well you know it isn’t my fault that my genes are more prominent, is it?” he playfully replies, “I’m just that good.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to be irritated.

“Smug butthead.”

“Hey, watch your words, Mommy!” 

Christian got me laughing and blushing. He just reminds me that I’m a mom now! It feels like we just had the talk about growing our family yesterday and the next thing I know I am now in a hospital, just giving birth to our sweet little angel who is sleeping peacefully in my arms at this moment. This still doesn’t feel real… Our lives are now officially changed forever and I couldn’t imagine mine before her.

“Hey,” Christian wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder, then whispers, “I love you.”

I have not stopped smiling and I can feel my smile getting wider.

“I love you.” I reply.

“You’re my everything, Y/N.” He adds.

“Oh no, you’re about to say some sappy monologue aren't you?”

“Yeah, here it comes…”.

Before he says his little speech he kisses me on the cheeks.

“Y/N… I can never thank you enough. You have made my dreams come true and I still don’t know why I deserve you in the first place! Thank you for making my life a lot more perfect than I ever imagined.”

I’m starting to sob.

“Christian…”

“I hated seeing you in so much pain just to bring her into the world.” He continues. “I wish it was me instead… But you continue to amaze me with your strength. And now, I love you so much more – more than I ever love anyone, even myself. Ever since you came into my life you have changed my world for the better. I never wanted to live my life with anyone else but you, and I’m beyond grateful we have a beautiful child together.”

“I will take good care of my girls for as long as I live…” His voice starts to shake. “I love you. I love you so much. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N.”

Tears immediately streaming down my face. I just gave birth so my hormones are all over the place, and his beautiful speech doesn’t help. He got me speechless and extremely emotional.

“Ugh,” I jokingly grunt as I wipe my tears with my hand, “how dare you make me cry, Pulisic.”

And suddenly we see our baby giving us her first big smile – it’s like she is reacting to all the love and emotions her parents are experiencing right now!

“Awwwww!” Christian and I make the same sound in unison.

And of course, it makes me cry even harder. Christian is emotional too, by the way, but not as messed up as I am currently. He grabs some tissues and gently wipes my face – which is all wet thanks to the river of tears – with them right away as I am still holding our daughter.

“Y/N, my love, I don’t think you will ever stop crying from now on, no?” He laughs.

“Obviously not!”

—

“So, have you two decided on baby girl’s name?”

Christian and I instantly look at each other when the nurse asks that question. As I said, we have prepared some names for our baby but we have yet to choose the perfect name for her. Christian then grabs a piece of paper with the list of names from his pocket and as soon as the nurse leaves the room, we start discussing right away.

“Okay, uh… Which one do you love the most, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, Chris,” I reply, “there are too many options.”

“Well you can’t say you don’t know,” Christian sighs, “we have to pick two.”

An idea suddenly passes through my head.

“Why don’t we try this out: we say any name we each feel perfectly fitting for her at the same time. What do you think?” I suggest.

“Yeah okay, it’s worth a try.” He agrees.

“Alright, let’s say it in the count of three.” I instruct him.

“One, two, three…”

“Dylan!”

“Emery?”

He didn't sound sure at first, but then changed his mind immediately. “Oh, I like both names!”

“Dylan Emery Pulisic… It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I agree with him. I look at our little bundle of joy in my arms and I just know those names were made for her.

“Yeah, that’s definitely her name.”

—

Even though we are now taking care of our newborn together, Christian did have to  fight just to get enough paternity leave. It was not easy for him because Dylan was born in the middle of the season and he is one of the most crucial players for the team, but he really wanted to take care of his daughter especially during the first few weeks of her life. Not only that, he feels like I have done so much already and he wants to also take care of you while you recover from the whole pregnancy and childbirth periods. He wouldn’t even mind getting less playing time when he comes back, because in his own words: “Now my priorities are my girls, football is much less important than both of you.”

Before Dylan was born, Christian had been practicing basically everything to prepare him for fatherhood. He can change the diapers, clean and bathe the baby, perfectly wrap her, he knows how to help soothe the baby, burp her after feeding – anything, really. He truly is excited to embrace this new life as a parent.

Dylan’s first week at home was hard, I had to adjust my sleeping schedule because until she’s a bit older I have to feed her every 2-3 hours and it messes up my sleeping. Not only that, she would loudly scream and cry all of the sudden and it mostly happens in the middle of the night. But Christian is always there, ready to help no matter how tired he might be – it’s a bare minimum but not all dads would be very hands-on like him – and I’m beyond grateful I don’t have to do everything alone. We always stay up late together, like when I have to feed Dylan at 12 AM and 3 AM. Most of the time, when we heard Dylan crying in the other room, he would tell me to go back to sleep and offer to take care of her. I would see them from the baby monitor and I’m telling you, he truly is the best dad. Seeing him being so loving to our daughter makes me already think about having another baby… But obviously both of us want to focus on raising Dylan so we decided to put the conversation on hold until Dylan is old enough to be a big sister.

Two weeks after Dylan came into the world, Christian decides it is time to introduce her to everyone at Milanello. So he brings both of us to the training grounds and shows her off to the staff and players. The club even got Dylan a mini home jersey kit as a way to welcome her to the Milan family.

One of his teammates greets us the second we get into the dressing room and ask about his current state. And to be honest, Christian’s heartfelt answer to it reminds me how lucky I am that I get to do this parenthood journey with him.

“Christian, hey! How are you feeling now, bro?

“Well I am a husband and a brand new father, so from now on I will always be feeling a lot happier than I have ever been. I am now on the start of a new life, thanks to my amazing, beautiful girls.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[britswriting]

First Ultrasound | Quadruple The Love H.S

A/N: Just so we are clear, I'm not purposefully picking white girls to play the role! I'm just picking cute photos! - Also, there are more quadruplet images of Caucasian babies smh lol, but I will use POC photos as well! It's Y/N series, not an x person series so the skin color will more than likely not stay consistent!

QTL masterlist Read on Wattpad

Full masterlist

"Babe, I can see you sweating from here" Harry chuckled, walking towards me from the car.

Harry dropped me off at the automatic doors, the awkward wait and stares at my belly making me uncomfortable as he parked the car.

“Shut up! It’s fucking hot, Harry” I groaned, Harry intertwining our hands the welcomed AC

Checking in for something other than a pap smear and a stomach virus felt weird. 

I turned to look up at Harry as he filled out one of the forms, passing the front desk woman our insurance car, a grin on my face as it started to set in why we were here.

I was here for a baby. My baby. We were pregnant. I'm getting a checkup and an ultrasound.

Harry kept his hand in mine as we walked the halls, reaching the OBYN waiting room, quite a few pregnant people and there partners were sat. A few girls were on their own, and one girl had another girl sat next to her, both of them looking over a baby must haves magazine.

"Let's sit over here" Harry murmured quietly, dragging me towards a back cornered area of the waiting room next to a kids activity table.

"Aw!" I cooed, "Look how small" I pointed at the little kid chairs and coloring books.

I felt the waterworks start, Harry chuckling as he snatched a coloring book off the table along with a box of crayons.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pulling myself back together, sitting down next to him.

"Coloring" he replied like it was obvious.

"It's a kids coloring book"

"So"

"Oh my god" I laughed, Harry flipping through the book, landing on a page of a cat with a mermaid tail

Harry colored the page, ignoring my teasing comments, passing me a crayon to join him before my name was called, the nurse grinning as Harry set the coloring book and crayons back on the table.

"If you can just step on the scale real quick. Would you like to know your weight or not?" She asked, respecting that I opted out, marking down the numbers before leading us to one of the rooms.

I thought getting STD tested was scary, but answering nurses questions for your file when you're pregnant is way scarier.

What if my numbers are too high? or low? What I have some weird blood type that is going to corrupt this child? What if I already had a bad weight gain? What if I'm already on the road to some sort of high risk pregnancy like diabetes or preeclampsia?

"Y/N? You have to uncross your legs and relax babe" Harry noted, the blood pressure cuff getting strapped around my bicep.

I sighed, nodding as I tried to relax, hating feeling the cuff tighten around my arm.

Did it have to hurt so much?

When the nurse confirmed that I was pregnant, my heart dropped to my stomach, the feeling of needing to throw up causing my throat to tighten.

There was a huge smile on Harry's face as the nurse continued to explain the next steps, but all I could think about was;

I'm pregnant.

I have a baby inside of me.

I'm in charge of another human. This humans life is in my hands. In my womb.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Harry rushed, pushing himself out of the chair and to my aid, "breathe. in, out" Harry coax, catching the nurses attention.

I did some deep breathing, getting myself to calm down, Harry's hand squeezing my own when he mouthed "Are you okay?" to which I nodded, only for the nurse to ask me if this was an unwanted baby.

"It's in your chart that you've been trying?" She asked, sounding confused.

"We have" Harry confirmed, the nurse looking over at me, confused.

"I just.. I'm pregnant" I spoke softly, Harry's brow furrowing. "I'm excited... but I'm.. I'm terrified. It's all on my shoulders to keep this baby safe. I'm just.."

"Y/N, breathe" Harry inhaled, then exhaled, having me follow him.

"I'm sorry" my voice cracked, my eyes stinging as tears threatened to rush down my cheeks.

I'm already a horrible mother.

I can't even act excited in front of the nurse.

"It's natural to be nervous" the nurse eased, my slight nod and Harry's soothing knuckle motion hopefully being enough to calm my nervous system. "You can be over the moon and terrified all at the same time. It's perfectly normal" He continued.

"I know.. I just.." I chewed my lower lip, "What if something happens? I mean, it's a miracle I'm pregnant to begin with and now.. and now that it's actually happened how do I make sure I don't mess it up?"

"Mrs. Styles, we're going to do our best and make sure you and your baby are healthy. Sometimes things happen, and it's never the mother's fault-"

"But it's my bodies fault" I interrupted, not daring to look at Harry.

"Sometimes things happen-"

"Because of my body. I can't have a baby" I interrupted again.

"And you're pregnant" the nurse's head nodded, my lips pursing.

"But I shouldn't be"

"It's not that you shouldn't be. No doctor told you it's suggested that you shouldn't be. You were told it was be hard to be; but not impossible, and look, now you're pregnant! We're going to keep watch, do our best to protect you and your baby and hopefully things go to plan. You can't worry too much though Mrs. Styles. The elevated blood pressure can risk you getting quite a handful of pregnancy complications" He warned and that alone was sending me into a mental hurricane.

When it came time for the ultrasound, Harry was giddy beyond belief.

I was as well, but I knew I'd be more excited once I was told that everything looked okay.

That me, and baby were okay.

Worse case scenario, I'm somehow miscarrying. Somewhat worst case is the pregnancy tests were false and my biggest fear that was forming a pit in my stomach was that I was pregnant, but I had some sort of detached egg and placenta thing, creating a high risk and or termination of pregnancy.

What if this was my one chance, and it didn't happen properly and I have to terminate it?

I don't think I'll survive that.

Harry called "Come in" when a knock sounded on the door, a youngish looking woman greeting us with a chart in her hand.

I laid back, the gel getting spread on my stomach, Harry taking a photo which made me laugh.

"Your fans would lose their minds if they knew you took selfies" I teased, the ultrasound technician smiling as turned on the machine.

"What they don't know won't kill them" he grinned, shoving his phone back in his pocket when I grabbed mine, returning the favor to record his reaction to seeing the baby.

"Are you guys ready?" She asked, the two of us nodding, our attention now on the tiny black and white static screen.

"Here's baby" She pointed, the little flick of a bean catching our immediate attention, "and... here's heartbeat" She pushed in on a button, the woosh sounding making our ears perk and our grins widen.

"What do you think, baby?" I asked, turning to look at Harry, seeing an overwhelming look of adoration towards the little screen, my heart melting right then and there.

I can't wait to watch him with the baby. He's going to be the best father ever.

With lack of reply, I turned back to look at the screen, wishing the baby was bigger so I could truly appreciate what was actually inside of me.

The wooshing noise stopped, my eyes snapping to look at the technician as she turned the screen towards herself.

I could feel my heart thump against my chest as I glanced over towards Harry who seemed worried, but was appearing to try very hard not to let it show.

"Everything okay?" I carefully asked, the technician humming.

"Baby's fine" she replied, "Um" she turned the screen back to us, "Do you guys see this?" She asked, pointing at the little bean, both of us nodding, "And do you see this?" She flipped screens, showing another bean. Harry's head tilting as I nodded slowly, also confused.

"That's the same, right?" I asked, the tech staying quiet.

"Do you see this one?" She asked, now my heart was really beating out of my chest.

What was happening?

Was this some kind of sick joke?

"You see here, each one has their own sack.." she pointed at three didn't placenta sacks.

"Yeah.."

"I uh, you're having triplets" She announced, my body stilling as Harry's eyes widened slightly, lips parted out of shock. "Here's baby A... baby B... baby C" She noted, the little letters showing up on the screen before she took a picture.

"There's three? Three babies?" Harry asked, the tech nodding as she went back to the video screen, moving around to show each one.

"Three's three"

"How- what?" I stumbled, leaning up on my elbows to try and get a closer look.

There is no way in hell there are three babies inside my fucking womb right now.

"There's just three, right?" Harry asked, my eyes widening at the possibly of more.

I'm going to be fucking huge.

"I'm not a golden retriever, Harry! I can't have a litter" I panicked.

I wasn't even supposed to have one baby, and now I'm having three?!

THREE?!!!!!!!

"I can only see three" She confirmed. "There could be one or two hidden behind one of the other ones-"

"MORE?!" I freaked.

"But that's rare" She finished, my eyes practically popping out of my head as I started to laugh.

"You're joking right? That's just like.. some prank you do on new parents? Ha ha.. jokes funny. It's just one, right?" I freaked, Harry's hand finding mine, the tech shaking her head.

"I'm not pulling your leg. It's triplets at least" She said, my body falling back on the exam bed.

Triplets.

Fucking triplets.

How the fuck am I gonna carry triplets?!

BIRTH TRIPLETS?!

No.

No I can't.

I can't birth triplets.

"Do I have to birth them all? Induvially?!" I worried aloud.

"It's extremely rare due to complications. You have a extremely if not guaranteed confirmation of a c-section"

"I can't have a VBAC next time right? if there is a next time? if I want a next time.." I rushed out, the idea of not having the dream vaginal birth was making my heart feel crushed.

I knew I shouldn't have hopes and dreams, especially since this wasn't supposed to happen period.. but I can't help it.

If it was one baby, or maybe even two... I could've possibly had a vaginal delivery, right? Like that could've been a possibility?

"Let's cross that road when we get there" She chuckled and I sighed, my eyes falling shut.

I could hear the tone of Harry's voice, the vibration it caused in my ears, but I couldn't make out the actual words as tears begun to roll down my cheeks.

I'm having triplets.

Three babies.

Three babies are growing inside of me.

T h r e e b a b a i e s a r e g r o w i n g i n s i d e o f m e

I have to raise three children at once. Of the same age. Forever.

Oh my god.

"Babe, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears from here" he snickered, "Quit thinking so hard"

I rolled my eyes, my hands coming up to cover my eyes.

"You're positive it's three?" I asked again, the tech confirming for what was probably the fourth or fifth time since I blacked out whatever Harry said.

I left the appointment with my brain spiraling and a few pregnancy pamphlets in hand, Harry already googling the recommended websites.

"Wait, it says that multiples rarely go to full term, meaning... we have like........ way less time than normal" he finished, making me laugh at his lack of words.

"Aren't you scared?" I asked, turning to face him as he scrolled through his phone.

"Scared? Sure. The excitement overshadows it though"

"How does the excitement overshadow the fear?" I genuinelly asked, baffled by how his emotions were a complete 180 to my own.

"Because we went from day and night worrying about not having any kids, to having three, Y/N. I mean, that's insane! A whirlwind if you will, but it's exciting! We're having three babies!"

I stayed quiet, Harry rambling the entire drive home about how we have so many more names to pick out now, and asking me if we were having one nursery, or a gendered nursery or even giving them each their own nursery.

Saying I was overwhelmed was an understatment.

♡ liked by: annetwist, yourbff, harrystyles and 15,859 others ynstyles: Throwback to our first ultrasound! @harrystyles and I love our little family so much already 🙈❤️

annetwist: Christmas is gonna be even more special this year ❤️🎄 ↪ harryfan1: @/annetwist OMG DOES THAT MEAN IT'LL BE HERE BY CHRISTMAS?!

yourbff: My new bff, sorry YN lol ↪ ynstyles: @/yourbff Gunna have to fight @/harrystyles lol

yourbff: @/harrystyles Can you fight though?! 👊🏽 ↪ harrystyles: @/yourbff for my family? Definitely ↪ yourbff: @/harrystyles BET ↪ harrystyles: @/yourbff BET ↪ yourbff: BET X2 ↪ harryfan2: @/yourbff @/harrystyles screaming crying throwing up

harrystyles: This was the best day ever ❤️ ↪ harryfan3: @/harrystyles WHERES THE H YOU IMPOSTER ↪ ynstyles: @/harrystyles yeah, where's the H ↪ harrystyles: @/ynstyles H

An: It's still four! They just don't know that yet!! - just to clarify lol

[normalaboutfugo]

"I can't find an ask box so I'mma just drop this here! I would love something with mafia boss GIORNO finding out his mom had another kid and pretty much goes feral to adopt them !! tyy"

𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 — 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌.

⋆₊☆ ⊂⊃ platonic yandere don!giorno || m.list

[ warning :: PLATONIC/NOT ROMANTIC, kinda kidnapping, platonic yandere ]

[ notes :: first post!! thank you @foundfamyanderes for requesting!! <3 i can't remember what happened to gio's mom but just pretend she left giorno and had reader and left them too lol ]

[ important :: see this post on another blog? likely a repost to my rebranded multi-fandom blog! don't be afraid to check, but if they're not linked w me, let me know! <33 ]

— when giogio first learns his mother went on to have another kid, he wanted to have a genuine connection, and he did everything in his power to find them. what if you weren't doing so well on your own, assuming that your mother didn't care about you, like she didn't with him? there's no way he'd let his own blood live like this, especially when he was doing so well.

— giorno did everything he could to look for you, searched the internet under the last name shiobana to find a lead, he looked for his mom's profile online, and when he found it, he saw various pictures of drinks, club floors, everything you'd expect from someone like her.

— it took a long time, quite a bit of searching through what seemed like a million pictures of your mom partying — giorno scrolled for hours and hours, ignoring the way his eyes burnt when he looked at the screen for too long.

— finally, after he thought he was starting to fall asleep from staring at the bright computer screen for forever, he found multiple pictures of selfies from his mom with the head of a child in the background; cropped out the best if could be, but still quite obvious you existed.

— it took a long time to find you, but honestly, it confused giorno. why was he so hooked on meeting you? he only found out you existed a few days ago, and you didn't even know you had a half brother.

— when giorno finally found you, he had immediately introduced himself to you — not as the don, but as your brother. he wanted to have a genuine connection with you, because he never had a sibling, and while everyone in bucciarati's gang were like family, but blood ran thicker than water.

— and upon finding out you were broke and living on pickpocketing because your mother left you? giorno spoiled the fuck out of you. when he met you, he treated you to a meal at one of the nicest places in italy because he wanted to make a good impression, but when he finds out you're not used to such good dining and being treated well?

— most definitely takes you shopping for whatever you want, turning you down when you say you'll pay him back for it.

"Here, whatever you want."

"That's...! Giorno, no, I'll pay you back as soon as I ca-"

"With money you took? Don't worry about it, there's more than enough for you to have what you wanted."

— reader goes quiet real quick

— not long after meeting him, giorno offers you a place to live. the streets got cold at night, and he would know. gratefully, you accepted it; what else could you do?

— it doesn't take long for giorno to get overbearing. he'll start putting extra locks on the doors, and when questioned, express that he just wants you to feel safer in your new home.

"..Giorno, what's with the locks on the door?"

"The locks? Oh, I wanted to make sure you felt safe, is all. Is there a problem?"

"Well.. no, I just.. don't you think it's a bit much?"

"Mm.. no, I don't think so. You can never be too sure."

— he might even give you a curfew at first

— he'll give you the reasoning that the streets of italy aren't safe at later times, which is semi-true. it really wasn't safe to be roaming around at night, especially after you start living with the boss himself; word spreads like wildfire in passione, and a bounty would be placed on your head by traitors before you know it.

— eventually, a curfew turns into him spending every second with you during your outings, and that turns into you just not being allowed to leave the house at all.

— even if he needs to pull a few strings to find a reason to keep you home, he'll do what he needs.

"The strap on your bag, it's broken."

"Oh, yes.. I noticed a bit ago, but it's no big deal."

"That's fine, we can get you a new one today. There's got to be something identical somewhere."

"Should I get ready to go out, then?"

"No, you don't need to. We can find something online, or I can go find it at the store we bought it from."

"..Oh. Why?"

"I don't want you going out."

— when you bring up your concerns to him about not being allowed to leave, he takes it really well, as if he'd just up and abandoned his previous reasons for you being kept inside. and after that, you go to bed that night with relief, sleeping easily knowing that it's going to change.

— except for in the morning, when you're leaving the room, you turn the doorknob only to realize you were locked in from the outside. on the nearest table is a notepad, next to a plate of food and a cup of water. written in red ink,

"[READER],

It's wrong to lock you up, but I can't bring myself to put you in danger and allow you to leave. But I can also promise it's only temporary, I want you to be happy here. I had some business with the famiglia, so I left home quite early this morning. I will return, but while I'm not there, I left food and a glass of water next to this note. I'll be seeing you soon.

— Giorno

[mireyaaaaaaaaa]

The Blue Umbrella

Her POV [Pt.2]

Warnings\ Not proofread, fem!reader, okay so maybe not that slow paced but theres a huge time skip from previous part to this part… maybe two years? She’s like college first year in this oh and I don’t know how colleges work I did a lot of research (watching dramas lol) so I hope this is a good part

♡pt1>>

The last few years of my life were quite uneventful. Just me studying to get into my dream university! Today is my first day and I’m so excited! Mel is helping me move into my dorm, my parents were… too busy to care.

“That’s all Mel! O-oh don’t drop it, NO!” My things scattered on the floor as she accidentally dropped the box. “Ooops” she muttered. I put the box I was carrying down on my bunk before rushing to help her gather my clothes from the floor.

“Oh?”

“What?” I turned to her. Then, I saw what was in her hand. Oops. “Hey! Give that here!!”

“No. Why do you still have this?” She asked pointing to my blue umbrella.

“Because I haven’t met the owner again after that day! Now give that here!”

“You could’ve left this at home”

“Well, I didn’t?”

“AAAAA MY SISTER STILL LIKES HIM!!”

“STOP MAKING ASSUMPTIONS.” I could feel my face starting to get warm, noo!!  I snatched the umbrella from her hand before setting it aside on my table and glaring at her. She just grinned at me. Before I could say something, I heard some voices from outside coming this way. What if it were my roommates? The other three bunks were already decorated and set up.

 As the voices grew closer, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, I looked over at Mel who gave me an assuring smile and thumbs up. “Sounds like your roommates are here sis!”

Sure enough, a second later, three girls walked in animatedly chatting with one another. They stopped in their tracks when they saw me. I gulped. Why are they staring?

“Oh hi! You must be our fourth roommate, nice to meet you. You’re so pretty. What’s your name? I’m Harper, this is Olivia my twin sister.” She pointed to the other brunette. “And that’s Cherry.” She said pointing to the third girl. She had blonde hair with blue streaks.

“My real name is Charlotte,” she laughed “but she’s been calling me that since the day we met.” Charlotte piped in.

“Uh my sister is a bit too extroverted so just tell us if you feel too awkward by that lol” Olivia said.

“Well, I’ll get going now, bye y/n, bye girls have fun” Mel said as she quickly walked away and left me alone. All alone. With no advice on how to talk. And make friends. Yay.

“H-hi. I’m y/n. That was my older sister Mel, she was helping me move in…”

“Hi y/n! That’s such a pretty name. Pretty name for a pretty girl! Do you mind if I call you n/n?” (nickname)

“Lol that’s creative, Harper. Wait… you’re Harper right?” I asked. This is so embarrassing…how did I already forget their names.’ I groaned internally. “She’s Harper, I’m Olivia. Olivia is the calmer one, Harper is the hyperactive one. Exactly like Leo, he’s a bit more eccentric though.” Olivia told

“Who’s Leo?” I asked

“Our brother, you’ll know soon enough. He’s too annoying. “ Harper told.

The initial awkwardness started to fade away after we started talking more. It was almost nightfall and the girls had helped me put the rest of my stuff scattered around. Thankfully it wasn’t too much to be a burden.

Suddenly, Cherry’s eyes fell on the blue umbrella sitting on my table, her curiosity piqued. “Ooo, pretty umbrella! Where’d you get it?”

“Uhm long story”

“Hey! Is that…?” Livi(Olivia) looked at Harper with a confused expression.

“Is that what?” I asked.

“Nothing… our brother had a similar umbrella like that lol. So where’d you get it?” Harper asked

“It’s…quite a long story.” I chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh don’t worry, we love a good story!” Livi chirped.

“Maybe some other day, kinda sleepy right now” I yawned.

“Awww” Harper got disappointed.

“Sorr-“

“It’s okay n/n. Harper she got here today. It must’ve been a hectic day for her, her parents also couldn’t come.” Livi scolded her. Lol

“Oh yeah… why didn’t they?” Cherry asked.

“Later. Good night girls.”

“Night n/n”

I crawled into my bunk and turned of the lamp. Livi was still reading her book but the other two went to sleep too. I couldn’t help but think of the twins’ reaction to my umbrella. There’s no way that… Like that’s absolutely impossible… I mean it isn’t but, this is such a coincidence if it is true! Is the umbrella really their brother’s? And… my parents… Should I tell them? Or will they think I come from a too messed up family, and judge me, and not want to be friends anymore? No, I don’t wanna mess this up… A single tear made it’s way down my face. Followed by a few more… I didn’t bother to wipe them.

My eyes started to close on their own. With a weary sigh, I closed my eyes. Everything will be alright. At least I hope so…

That was my last thought before I felt the gentle tug of sleep. I curled up into a ball and surrendered myself to the comforting embrace of slumber. I can worry about this later. Today was exhausting. I let go of all my anxiety and allowed myself to drift into dreamland.

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A/n>>> I feel like this part was kind of short and boring so here’s a little bonus part, livi’s pov after y/n falls asleep. I hope you liked this part though. Sorry for the long wait<3

The Blue Umbrella

Olivia POV [Pt.1]

______________

I sat on my desk, engrossed in the new book I was reading. Today was a day of laughter and chatter as we got to know about y/n. She completed our friend group, our little family. With a contended sigh, I closed my book and got ready to go to sleep. But the sight I saw when I woke up shattered me.

I had noticed the bit of sadness that lingered behind her bright smile, especially after her parents had been mentioned. Maybe she missed them, or maybe there was more to it? She didn’t really seem eager about bringing them up.

But even after that, seeing her tear-stained face, made my heart clench. Does she cry to sleep every night? I truly hope not.

A surge of concern washed over me, mingling with a fierce determination to uncover the source of y/n’s pain. She may have only just arrived but she was already part of our little family, I couldn’t bear to see her suffer alone, in silence. With a silent vow, I resolved to reach out to y/n. I want her to know that she doesn’t need to face the darkness of the world all alone. I want her to know that we’re here for her, always will be. We’re here to support her and comfort her when she feels gloomy, when her skies are grey and cloudy. We’re here for her. No matter what.

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main taglist>>> @whoslug @daydreamingmia @peapea-0405 @primordial-space-spaghetti @yeeteddemigod @incorrectenhypen @sammy0is0autistic

[james-is-here]

hii I’m taking a angst/fluff request and this is not a non idol au which is bangchan x m! reader so this req is kinda based on a movie eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and ariana grande’s mv which is “we can’t be friends” soo chan and m!reader is dating for 12 years since high school and a few years later chan and m! reader, chan is leaving and m! reader is like disappointed but chan is meeting with his friends and they have a party and chan is drunk and there’s a girl she seductive him and its works so they book a hotel so basically chan cheats with m! reader and the girl is pregnant and chan is the baby daddy so the girl tells chan that she is pregnant and they have to talk about it and m! reader doesn’t know it. so the next day chan goes home and they have a date and have sex (top chan and bottom m! reader and its implied smut) so here its is chan phones rings and its the girl so m!reader answers it and he does know it because he’s soo mad.. and a few hours later he tells chan he found out so they fight and chan broke it off… a few months later m! reader undergoes to erase his memories of his former boyfriend chan from his mind and his memories and he broke down while in the procedure but he want to stop it but the procedure is successful and chan he undergoes the same procedure too. (this part is like a flashback of the cute and sad moments and its m! reader’s pov) a few years later and chan and m! reader bangs into each other and they other… soo yeah thats it you can change anything if you like too, thank you!

This finally got me to watch her music video and omg it's basically like Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind which is also an amazing movie. The way I did the details is basically like the music video but different memories 😅

Tags: Well, I don't know how to put it into words but Based on the request: Memory removal, cheating, angst, fluff, cussing, implied sex...uh, yeah lol

'You've given extensive thought about your decision and give us the exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your memories.'

You've been staring at the option for a quite some time, so long that the nurse even came to check on you and you've had to tell her twice that you're still thinking it over.

But what is there to think over? He hurt you and all you want to do is forget.

You finally bring the pen to the paper, hovering hesitantly before you check 'yes' and sign your name.

"Mn?" "Yes?" "He's ready for you." You give a small smile, handing her the clipboard then picking up the box and following behind her.

You give the box to another nurse as the one that came to get you set you up. You were a little nervous but it all hurt too much, you wanted to forget and this seemed like a better, healthier option than drinking 24/7.

Placing a pulse oximeter on your finger, she waits for your vitals to show up on the screen and the doctor is setting up the computer. The other nurse takes out the first item, a ticket, and places it on the tray under a camera.

The first nurse steps behind you, making sure the device is secure before checking with the doctor that everything is ready. When it starts, the device changes colors and it's like you're brought back to the moment of the item.

You were outside your school, the both of you chatting and smiling at each other. "Oh! Guess what?" He asks. "Come on, Channie, you know I hate guessing things, I'm impatient." "Okay fine." He pulls two tickets out of his back pocket. "I got us tickets to the dance tonight." "Wha- Y-You said dances were stupid!" "They are but I saw how much you wanted to go and I know about the multiple times your mom has asked if you were going to the dance or not." "You'd go...for me?" "Yeah...I like you, Mn. You're...You're pretty cute." Your smile was so wide that it was like your face was split in two as you wrapped your arms around his waist and he wrapped his around your neck. "Thank you, Channie." "You're welcome, Mn."

Chan fades out first as you're still there before the whole memory fades out. Then another one starts.

"You want me to move in?" His smile is so bright and beautiful, so kind as he nods. "Yeah. We've been together for years now and I'd like you to always be with me." Tears well up in your eyes, both in the memory and in real life, as you nod. "I-I'd love to live with you." You laugh softly, kissing him gently as you took the key out of his palm then climbed into his lap.

Another fade, with you left behind before it blacks out. The nurse takes out a photo of you both.

"Happy Birthday, Mnie." You laugh, your place across from him on the floor, legs crossed. "Thank you." "You look so adorable." You look over to him shocked then laughing softly, playing with the sleeves of your his over sized hoodie. "How is it you know how to make me flustered after so long of being together?" "I have my ways. Anyway, make a wish." "Okay." You sit closer to the cake, closing your eyes to think before you blow out the candles. "What you wish for?" He asks, leaning over the cake. "It won't come true if I say it." You reply, leaning in as well and you go to kiss him but suddenly there's air and you're the only one sitting with a cake in front of you.

You jolt, vision focusing back into the room and the doctor and the nurse are by your side, your hand pulling up to the chain around your neck holding a silver band. "Wait, Can- Can I keep this one, please?" "Of course, sir, it's okay." "A-Actually, C-Can I stop, I-I don't-" "I'm afraid that's not possible sir, we've already taken a majority of your memories." You gasp softly, head falling back against the chair. "I'm really sorry, sir." "I-It's okay...continue." You close your eyes as the doctor relinks the connection.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" "Nope. I really wish I did but don't worry, okay?" You bit your lip nervously, watching as he brings a hand up to the side of your face and he pulls your lip out from your teeth and kisses them gently. "Don't wait up, okay? I promise I won't be out for too long into the night." "Okay."

You watch him walk out, knowing that you can trust him but what you don't know is the classic mean girl bitch was also at the club your boyfriend's friend wanted to celebrate his promotion. Didn't know that she was purposely getting him to the brink of blacking out, pulled him onto the dance floor, took him to the hotel down the road, that she got him in bed. and that she told him days later that she was pregnant.

You also didn't know that Chan didn't go to the restroom when you were on your small dinner date, taking a call from the girl he slept with.

That night, you went home, bustling through the door as you laughed against Chan's lips, the both of you tumbling to the bedroom, tangled in the sheets a moment later as Chan was on top of you, your hands tangled in his hair and his touch burning on your body.

After, your both panting, bodies close to one another and you could feel his heart beat, wrapped up in the surprisingly cold sheets, the contrast a shocking difference from your bodies but it felt nice. Chan eventually leaves your arms and gentle kisses to get something to clean the mess, leaving you in the bed. Your head turns when you hear a phone, slipping out of the sheets and putting on your boxers before digging into your pants only to find out your phone was dead before picking up Chan's.

Your heart drops and you suddenly have the urge to throw up, your stomach churning as you turn toward Chan exiting the bathroom. "Why the fuck...is Bitch Brittney texting you about wanting you to be the father?" "Mn-" "No, answer the question!" "Listen, Mn..." "How could you!" "It's not what it looks like, baby-" "Don't you dare. How could you throw away twelves years?!" "I was drunk, Mn." "How long have you known?" "What?" "How long have you known she was pregnant? How long have you known?" "A...A week..." "You fucking bastard!" You gather your clothes and phone, throwing Chan's onto the bed as you leave. "W-Wait, Mn." "I don't want to hear it!"

"No, No, Mn, just wait-" "Don't go trying to get me to stay. If you loved me, you wouldn't have fallen for that skanks tricks." "I was drunk!" "That's your excuse?! You try to save 12 years over pure love with the excuse that you were drunk?! You could've stopped yourself, I know your tolerance!" "Mn, please." "No, if you wanted to keep me, you would've thought twice before listening to Brittney."

After getting your clothes on, you throw his house key at him, he catches it, looking at it in his palm before looking back to you. You ignore the guilt in his eyes, how can he be hurt when he did this to himself?

"Don't call. Got that?" and with that you leave and the memory fades.

That was a month ago, you still remembered it vividly before it slowly just vanishes and you can't remember what you were thinking about or what was happening.

You lay on your couch on Chan's lap, just staring up at him before he takes a chain out of his pocket and holds it above you, a silver band hanging off it and you gasp, sitting up and kissing his cheek while taking the chain before everything blurs and you sit back, placing a kiss on a little dogs head instead as you're taking its leash off.

The dog cuddles up to you, and you pet his head. The apartment around you changing, your foyer becoming a wall with a door, your walls changing from light green to a soft cream color, paintings and shelves change as you just watch your tv and play with your dog. The tv playing your memories of Chan and you together before it shuts off.

You open your eyes, the nurse and doctor smiling at you softly as the nurse helps you out of the chair. When you're full out of the chair, you turn to the doctor, shaking his hand before turning around and deciding to give the nurse a hug.

The other nurse is already gone, putting your box in a unit and shutting the door before turning it on, the box and items inside immediately lighting ablaze.

A couple days later, you're rushing to meet your coworker at a small cafe but you bump into someone, dropping your phone and wallet and you go to pick it up when another hand already has it and is holding it out to you, a small smile on his face as his eyes scan your features and you're doing the same.

"Sorry, I should've watched where I was going..." You say slowly, still gazing at the male you crashed into. "It's no problem." His smile was so cute, he was cute.

"Um, My names Mn."

His smile widens as you take your things before taking his hand and shaking it.

"Chan. It's nice to meet you."

Fun fact: Brittney definitely wasn't happy that Chan decided to do the procedure. Chan may have asked if it was possible to erase two people. Mn's dog is still alive, it's just at his apartment. I kept looking back at the music video way too often.

This was fun to write. I hope it's okay.

If anyone wants to be tagged when I post, LMK and I can do that! 😁

[according2thelore]

omg i love that es sam post!!! imagine him “taking a break” from the three of them. he’s a jealous bitch and feels like they don’t even WANT him around, they all like each other better anyway!! cue Flagstaff Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

gosh!

if sam ran away, it would be an absolute shitshow, lol. i don't know if i think he would full-stop run away. i think maybe it would be a miscommunication--especially since for ES!Dean, stanford is so fresh and raw.

in my head, i'm picturing maybe ES!Sam steps out because he found a lead on a surprisingly non-BS book on time travel at a new-age bookshop a town over and gets stuck out overnight. and honestly, he's not that mad about it. he could do with a fresh night at a motel away from the Sammy and Dean show (and will not admit that it stings that he's not the 'sammy' in question). plus! sunlight! he hadn't realized how dark and damp everything is underground until he actually has a room with a window.

at first, as much as it sucks to admit, no one really notices at first. ES!Sam has really tried to distance himself from everyone (much more at the beginning of this ordeal than a few weeks in), and spends most days either archiving a storage room that LS!Sam told him about just to have something to do or in he and ES!Dean’s room avoiding them.

so LS!Dean is the first to notice. he's just had the idea to maybe reach out and offer the kid a grilled cheese for lunch. but...he can't find him. anywhere.

he goes to ask ES!Dean&LS!Sam who are tucked in next to each other in one of the armories, giggling, and LS!Dean gets distracted for a bit at how irritating--and honestly?? kind of arousing--they are together.

they "split up and look for clues" as LS!Dean puts it, quite excitedly, and ES!Dean kind of flushes like 'wow you're such a dork' but he's practically skipping down the hallway and LS!Sam rolls his eyes.

once their search turns up no sam...it's Hit Every Alarm Bell Time.

ES!Dean is the most freaked out. what if ES!Sam got taken back to the past without him? what if ES!Dean's stuck here? what if whatever brought them both to the present kidnapped him? he's guilty because he should've noticed it sooner. he's been spending so much time with LS!Sam that he didn't even notice his own little brother was missing for what? hours? dean's little brother is his whole thing! and he didn't even notice! not to mention stanford is still so fresh for ES!Dean that he's absolutely the most freaked out about the Lack of Sam, and therefore absolutely the least helpful.

LS!Dean is in the middle. that is to say, on a scale of 0 to rip the building apart brick by brick ("hey, stop it kiddo, he's not in the fucking walls." "shut up, old man!") he's a 7. a Missing Sam is a Missing Sam, okay? you could bring any dean (even squirrel dean) in and tell him this, and that's a category five disaster. and this sam is small!!!! and alone in the world!!!!!!! he's calling local hospitals and jails, before widening the search. he's probably even on "foot" patrol (patrolling motels and town with Baby) which he drags ES!Dean into, because that poor kid's fourteen seconds away from having three concurrent heart attacks.

LS!Sam checks ES!Sam's search history. he promises to do a more thorough up-and-down of the bunker, including investigating if any of their artifacts that they've got spilling out of old boxes in almost every room, have the power to transport people. but then, he sees the laptop in ES!Sam's room (kid has a FASCINATION, and LS!Sam cringes to think of a time before laptops were widely available). and okay, yeah. let's check his search history. after 'curious college twink gets ass ate large hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' and oh. okay. ES!Sam found internet porn. cool. (LS!Sam does not notice that the 'hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' has light brown hair and a strong jaw and does not remember the website and thumbnail. because that would be weird!) LS!Sam sees the bookshop.

he calls LS!Dean, and he comes back so they can all hop the town over to go collect him.

they find him immediately under "dean plant" at a motel on the edge of town closest to lebanon.

he's groggy because it's five in the morning. the storm from the night before has barely cleared, and the smell of wet concrete hits him before he's even full awake as the door slams open.

he's got three guns pointed at him (two identical ones, one significantly less scratched than the other; and the third is very familiar) and an ES!Dean that immediately falls upon him like a regency woman reuniting with her long-estranged husband returned after years of war.

LS!Sam keeps trying to calm the situation down with calm words and an annoyed glance at ES!Sam but mostly calm. and LS!Dean is just pissed.

"where'd you go? why'd you go? why are you here? the storm? yeah i guess it was kind of bad. but that's no excuse! oh they closed the bridge because of the flooding. well you could have called! no phone. hm. well. you can't go disappearing like that, kid."

and ES!Sam is kind of equally pleased and annoyed. because honestly, he didn't think they would really notice. he didn't think he was an integral part of this machine that they occupy. he thought he was the weakest link, but they chased him down (even if it was only twelve miles) and—

(and ES!Sam tries not to think it, but it reminds him of a sermon at the church he visited once a month with brady, before brady stopped going to church (the church that made sam's feet tingle as in his shoes as soon as he stepped on hallowed ground); about the shepherd chasing down the wandering lamb, and how fucked is it that sam's thinking, in part, about himself? some bigger, stronger, wiser version of himself bringing him back into the fold? it makes sam shudder a little, bc sam didn't even question the part about dean being god, just himself.)

and later that night is when ES!Sam gets his first "we"--LS!Sam pulls him aside after dinner, and says quietly,

"we can't disappear on dean, okay?" he's quick to continue, because he can see the beginning of ES!Sam's indignant protest. "it was an accident. and they shouldn't've freaked out like that. but we go through...a lot. and he needs us. even in 2006. and he's glad we're here."

ES!Sam shrugs him off, but later that night, when he says goodbye to ES!Dean, he says "goodnight jerk," and dean relaxes against the doorframe. and sam thinks, maybe this isn't the worst thing that's happened to them. not as long as they're all in it together.

every time i say "oh this ran away from me" and UGH! every time it's TRUE! flagstaff pt 2: electric boogaloo would end with a lot less tears and anguish on all parts involved, i think. but like any good sequel, it would increase the stakes (TWO deans losing their minds + a bonus sam!).

thanks for this ask, anon! my brain really took to it, lol!

-lizzy <3